Raw and Radiant
by msgalinda
Summary: In the summer after Quinn gives birth, she and Rachel develop an unexpected bond.
1. Chapter 1

"Here are your keys, ladies."

Rachel looks up at the concierge and lifts the corner of her mouth in thanks as she, Mercedes, and Tina collect their key cards from the hotel desk. The light classical music and cream-colored walls of the hotel lobby do nothing to lift their spirits as they head to the elevator and their room for the night. They say nothing as they leave Finn, Kurt, Mike, and Matt in line behind them, heads cast downwards and looking anywhere but each other.

Rachel's curiosity piques when she sees Puck and Mr. Schue standing by the elevator. Their heads are bowed as they whisper furiously. Mr. Schue stops and straightens when he sees the girls approaching, but Puck presses on, and Rachel strains to overhear.

"Mr. Schue, this is unfair! I'm going."

"Puck, not now," Mr. Schuester says, eying the three girls and smiling uneasily as Tina hits the call button on the elevator.

"I'm not leaving her in the hospital by herself!"

Quinn.

One thing Rachel had immediately realized while she and Puck were dating was that they had very few things in common. On the short list she had compiled, the first and most recognizable was a fierce sense of loyalty, Rachel, to her teammates, and Puck, to whomever he happened to care about that week, Finn, Artie, his sister, but always, always Quinn. It was one of the traits Rachel had admired most in him.

"Puck, you're not going by yourself. It's late, and I can't go with you," Mr. Schuester responds, crossing his arms in what Rachel assumes he thinks is an authoritative stance.

"Mr. Schuester," Rachel interjects, squaring her shoulders. "I would like to accompany Noah to the hospital to see Quinn."

She is quite sure that Puck has never looked so happy to see her. Behind her, Mercedes rolls her eyes and pulls Tina into the elevator, murmuring "Good luck, Mr. Schue."

Mr. Schuester takes a deep breath and sighs, turning to Rachel. Behind him, Puck nods eagerly at her.

"I understand that it was imperative for me to stay behind at Regionals today to represent our team and to ensure that we were not disqualified. However, I missed a vital moment in my teammate's life and was unable to provide support for her, Noah, and the rest of New Directions in that stressful-"

"Puck, go." Mr. Schuester shakes his head and pushes Rachel toward Puck, who only nods gratefully, grasps the girl around the wrist, and all but carries her out of the lobby.

"And take a cab!" he calls after them. "Don't walk!"

-/-

"Thanks," Puck says quietly, once they've settled into the backseat of the car.

Rachel looks at him and nods. "You're welcome." Puck nods back at her and wipes his hands on his pants, no longer looking as caged as he had on the bus ride back to the hotel.

"Are you okay?" she asks after a pause, not liking the silence, but not knowing how to fill it.

Puck straightens, shaking his head and shrugging. "Yeah. I don't know. I just- Yeah."

Rachel nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Mercedes said she's really beautiful."

"She is," Puck looks at her, eyes soft. "She looks just like Quinn."

Rachel's heart aches at the tender expression on his face as she's reminded why she sought out a friendship in him. 

/-/

She is waiting for him in the waiting room, nervously flipping through a tattered issue of People magazine that is well past its prime when he shuffles back in, looking worn, but calm. Rachel stands, following him over to a vending machine in the corner.

"How is she?"

"Tired."

"She wants a," Rachel pauses as her eyes follow Puck's fingers, "a Pepsi?"

Puck raises his eyebrow at her, not unlike the way Quinn is wont to do. "I want a Pepsi. She has nurses tripping over themselves to get her what she wants."

Rachel chuckles, feeling warmth spreading through her. At least some things never change.

"Noah, can I see her?"

He shrugs and gives her the room number before flopping into a chair. Rachel passes through the door that will lead her to the hospital rooms and she finds herself nearly tip-toeing down the white hallways looking for Quinn's room. She reaches the room number Noah had given her, and she pauses, gathering herself, before she turns the handle and steps in. When she pokes her head around the doorframe, she sees Quinn lying in the bed, blinking sleepily up at her. Rachel scans the room for a crib, but she doesn't find one.

"Rachel?"

Rachel nods, tucking her hair behind her ear and moving to sit in a chair near Quinn's shoulder. Quinn is lying on her back on the bed, wearing light pink hospital pajamas and covered in a clean-looking white blanket. Her eyes droop as she regards Rachel curiously, her gaze unarmed and confused, but not unwelcoming, and Rachel realizes that this is the first time she's seen Quinn look the slightest bit vulnerable.

"Hi Quinn," she says softly. Rachel had made a list of things to say in the cab on the way over, including several ways of starting inoffensive conversation with Quinn, but now she can't seem to remember any, so she just smiles.

"Puck didn't say you were here, too," Quinn murmurs, moving one of her arms from the mattress to rest on her stomach. The hospital clip on her finger scratches against the blanket. Rachel frowns, instantly miffed.

"Well he should have. I got him in after visiting hours, and I'm the only reason Mr. Schuester let him out of the hotel at such an hour, but," Rachel stops herself when she sees Quinn smiling.

"Thank you," Quinn says quietly. "I was hoping someone would come."

Rachel feels something akin to relief in her chest, and she shakes her head, marveling that even after everything, even when she's lying prone and helpless on a hospital bed, Quinn's approval means so much to her. Rachel smiles and takes a breath. "You're welcome. You shouldn't be alone. I am sorry I couldn't be here earlier. Someone had to stay, but I wanted to see you and the- " she stops when Quinn winces and matches it with one of her own. She continues slowly, "and make sure you were okay. There are some things for which you can't take another's word."

They sit in silence. Rachel is half-afraid that Quinn will ask her to leave.

"I'm okay," Quinn says. "She is, too," Quinn turns her head to look at Rachel again and offers her a weak smile.

"Am I too late?"

Quinn shakes her head and rises to her elbows to push herself up. Pain shoots through her abdomen, and she winces again and closes her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. Rachel is on her feet immediately, her hand hovering above Quinn's shoulder ready to help when Quinn looks up almost bashfully. Her eyes narrow when Rachel's mouth opens, ready to take her question back, to urge Quinn to lie down once more and forget everything. Rachel snaps her lips closed and nods. She holds out her hand, and Quinn grips it, holding tightly as she allows Rachel to help her sit up. Rachel guides her out of bed and into her slippers, and as the pain in Quinn's lower abdomen subsides, she tries to convince herself that this is for Rachel, and not because she wants to see her daughter one more time. She knows it isn't true.

The nursery is smaller than Rachel thought it would be. She isn't quite sure what she was expecting, rows and rows of newborn babies, bright white walls and even brighter lights, maybe, but the small room's walls are a soft, off-white shade of yellow, and the lights are dimmed because of the hour and almost cozy. Rachel instantly finds it comforting, and a glance to her side tells her that as soon as they cross the threshold and hear the muted sound of babies cooing, the tension in Quinn's shoulders melts away as well. Rachel is scanning the room, glancing only at the babies who are swathed in pink when she notices that Quinn is no longer at her side. Rachel follows as the blonde glides across the room to a crib on the opposite side. The nurse sitting in a rocking chair nearby smiles at them, and Rachel rests her hands on the cool metal rail of the crib to look down at baby Fabray.

"Oh, Quinn. She's gorgeous."

Quinn ducks her head, eyes flicking to Rachel briefly before she smiles down at her own fingernails.

Rachel stares at the baby, feeling her heart thudding in her chest. The little girl is so small, wrapped in her pink pajamas and hat. As if sensing their presence in her sleep, the baby's little hand slides out to the side as one of her legs kicks. She squirms, curling and uncurling her fingers until her brow relaxes and she settles down again. Rachel watches, hypnotized, as she feels her breath leave her chest. She reaches out, holding her hand above the baby's fingers.

"May I?" she asks Quinn. "I scrubbed my hands and used hand sanitizer before I went in to see you, and I always do my best to keep my hands free of germs."

Quinn tries to shrug noncommittally. During her months of pregnancy, the baby had broken down the cold shell she put up when her sister joined the Cheerios. Her sister would come home from school and tell her all about Sue Sylvester and the Cheerios, and what it took to be on the team, and Quinn decided there and then that she wanted to do it. It required a thorny rind of indifference and superiority, and Quinn mastered it while she was still in middle school. The baby had changed that. Being malicious and uncaring while taking care of something so innocent and fragile felt unnatural. Quinn had felt like she was betraying this tiny creature inside of her, and soon enough, the tender side of herself she reserved only for her child made its way into Quinn's everyday life. Her heart had warmed, slowly, over eight months. She cherished the child she once resented, and when this little girl was placed in her arms a month early, she fell in love and shattered all at once. She sees the same awe on Rachel's face that she felt earlier in the delivery room, that she still feels now, but now, her senses aren't clouded by a soft, warm weight in her arms, a loving face smiling up at her own. Now, she's looking at a part of herself that isn't hers.

Quinn shrugs, her eyes focused on tiny pink pursed lips, round cheeks, and little curved ears. "She's not mine."

"She'll always be yours, Quinn."

Rachel turns to Quinn for the first time since they entered the nursery, and Quinn swallows around the lump in her throat when she meets Rachel's eyes. She always thinks that she can read Rachel's soul through her eyes. Everything is right there in each facial expression, exposed for anyone to see. It was one of the things Quinn hated about the girl, how she could show herself to the world, be so completely open and brutally honest, unafraid of herself. What it would feel like to grow up with that kind of freedom, Quinn would never know. Quinn was never able to do that. She had to hide herself and every emotion she ever had behind a wall that this baby had all but stripped from her. And now, without her shield, it feels like so much as a glance at Rachel will unleash every thought rocketing through her brain. Now, though, she thinks she sees something akin to empathy in Rachel's eyes, but try as she might to see herself the way Rachel sees her now, all she can see is a coward abandoning her child.

Quinn bites her lip and turns her head away from Rachel. The baby sleeps peacefully, and Quinn touches her fingertip to a tiny palm. She is unable to hold back a shaky smile when the baby's fingers clasp around her own.

Rachel looks at Quinn nervously before slipping her finger into the baby's other hand. Tiny fingers tighten, and Quinn lets out a noise that Rachel thinks could have been a laugh if the blonde wasn't so scared.

"She's perfect," Quinn murmurs, releasing her lip and shaking her head. "She's so perfect, but I can't keep her. I'm sorry."

Rachel strokes her thumb over the baby's tiny fingers, and she feels her heart unclench when Quinn starts to do the same. As they gently caress her daughter's hands, Quinn swears she sees the baby smile.

"Don't you see how loved she is already, Quinn?"

Quinn tears her eyes away from her child to look at Rachel inquisitively. Rachel just nods, smiling, and Quinn watches her daughter again. She wonders if her baby knows how much she loves her, if she can feel the way Quinn is trying to send everything she's feeling through her finger and into her daughter, so when her daughter grows up and wonders, wonders why Quinn gave her up, if she'll remember feeling consumed by how much her mother loved her, loves her, will always love her.

"You're going to give her to a family who will love her this much forever."

Quinn's gaze shoots back up to Rachel's, and she wonders if she'll be on the brink of tears for the rest of her life.

"I never knew who my mom was until recently," Rachel continues, looking up at Quinn. "I don't know if it'll help you, but, growing up I-" she reaches up with her free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I loved her. Every day."

Quinn lets out a shaky breath, eyes pricking with tears. She looks down at the tiny hand clasped around her finger and hopes that she never ever forgets what this feels like.

"Quinn."

"Yeah?" she answers, her eyes trained on the baby.

"Have you held her?"

When Quinn looks up at Rachel, the brunette's expression startles her. Behind Rachel's usual vulnerability is a sadness that gives Quinn pause.

"Yeah," Quinn says, and Rachel exhales around a smile.

"Good."

Quinn looks at Rachel curiously, a question on the tip of her tongue when the nurse sitting in the corner makes her way toward them. Quinn nods at her sadly, and when the woman smiles at her, Quinn can't bring herself to smile back. She turns back to the crib to see that Rachel has taken a step back. The brunette has turned her back to Quinn, and she's standing a few feet away, pretending to watch a baby boy in the next row. Quinn takes the moment and bends over the crib to stroke her daughter's cheek, unable this time to hold back her tears. She brushes her lips over the baby's cheek, and it feels like her heart fills her whole chest when the baby coos and turns her head into Quinn's. Quinn bites her lip and inhales shakily, nuzzling her nose into an impossibly soft cheek.

"I love you," she whispers, "I love you. I'll always love you," and even though she wants to pick up her daughter and run and run and never come back, she stands, squares her shoulders, and walks away.

-/-

When Quinn wakes up the next morning, she sees Puck's hospital bed before she sees her own. He's still wearing his outfit from Regionals. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, and the gold tie has been loosened so much, it drapes comically off of one of his shoulders. His jaw hangs slightly slack, and the worry lines that were so etched into his brow yesterday are all but gone in his peaceful sleep. Quinn tears her eyes away as her chest tightens, unable to push away thoughts of the last time she'd woken up to his face.

The door opens quietly and Rachel pokes her head in, her feet following her face into the room. Quinn is hit with a strange sense of déjà vu as a gentle smile breaks across Rachel's face.

"Hey," Rachel whispers after a glance at Puck. She's still wearing her clothes from last night, and with the way Puck is squeezed against the side of his bed, Quinn wonders if they both spent the night cramped in the little cot. Rachel sets the bag clutched in her hand on the floor and slides back into the chair she'd sat in the night before. "You're up."

Quinn raises an eyebrow, because sure, she's gone a little soft, but that doesn't mean she's going to stay that way. Maybe a little bit, enough to keep the friends she's gained, but Quinn Fabray would never be soft enough to play Captain Obvious with Rachel Berry and smile about it.

"No, Berry. I'm dreaming."

"You're not, Quinn."

At Quinn's heated glare, Rachel has the grace to blush. She shakes her head and the smile she had at the doorway returns to her face as she brings the bag onto her lap.

"I went out this morning and got you breakfast from the place across the street. My strict diet and workout regimen has kept me free from overnight hospital stays, but I've heard hospital food is atrocious, and you should be eating well to recover as quickly as possible."

Quinn raises her eyebrow even higher, but Rachel holds her gaze until Quinn looks away.

"Thank you," Quinn says.

The tension in the room is broken when Puck stirs, roughly throwing his arms over his head and rolling over. Puck startles when he lets out a brutish snort, and he sits straight up in bed. Rachel turns her head away and giggles, but Quinn can only sigh. Coming down from his stretch, Puck smiles at the girls across the room.

"Hey," he says, swinging his feet off the bed and sitting up.

"Hi Puck."

"Good morning, Noah."

Puck tightens the knots on his tie and raises an eyebrow at the girls playfully. When he stands, he untucks his shirt from his pants and sighs. "Can't believe I slept like that," he says with a crooked smile as he crosses the room to stand by Quinn's bed. He rests a hand on the back of Rachel's chair. She smiles up at him briefly.

"How are you, Quinn?"

Quinn nods at him. "Fine."

A noise at the door jars them from their short-lived peace, and three heads turn. Tension fills the room as a nurse steps in. Rachel jumps to her feet and hurries to the door, clearing her throat and avoiding the nurse's eyes.

"Mr. Schuester called earlier. I'm going to go call him back so he doesn't worry. He probably wants to tell us what time to expect the bus. I'm just going to..."

Rachel takes a deep breath and looks between Quinn and Puck one last time before disappearing around the corner. With the brunette gone, the two teenagers turn uneasily to the nurse standing in the doorway. The nurse forces a tight smile, and Quinn looks away, sitting up in bed and allowing Puck to help her to the floor.

"This won't take long," the nurse says softly.

Puck glares at her and folds his arm around Quinn's waist, holding her steady as she puts on her slippers.

"Should I take you to the nursery?"

"Yes," Puck says evenly.

The nurse nods and walks out the room. Puck keeps Quinn tucked into his side as they follow her, trying not to notice how loudly their footsteps echo in the quiet hallway. He almost wishes Rachel had stuck around to fill the silence with chatter about what percentage of babies are born with the correct number of fingers and toes, or whether or not babies can smell, or how likely it is for someone to ever get over the feeling of giving away a child.

"Have you two figured out what you want to do with the baby?" the nurse asks as she turns a corner. She doesn't look back at them.

"That's none of your business," Quinn barks before Puck can. He feels Quinn stiffen against his side, her back tense as a board, and it makes his chest tighten. She's leaning against him and he pulls her closer, glaring at the back of the nurse's head as he silently dares her to turn around. She never does.

She takes them to the viewing side of the nursery. Beth is there in the first row, easy for them to see. Puck doesn't know why, but it makes him proud. Still rigid, Quinn watches the nurse disappear around the corner before she turns to Beth. Her posture softens instantly. She leans forward, touching her fingertips to the glass, and Puck takes a step away from her. He watches her as she watches their daughter, her hand resting delicately on the glass, lips slightly parted, eyes full of longing, so different from how she used to look before all this happened.

She was cocky and bossy and never vulnerable with her uniform on, but once he'd eased it off her and pressed the softest of kisses against her lips, she was different. She clung to him, almost disappearing under his chest as she hesitantly kissed him back. She had gasped, arched into him as he kissed down her neck to her bare collarbone. He remembers how she had felt beneath him. She was soft and warm and trusting, vulnerable, and he thought then that he loved her.

She taps the pad of her finger against the glass noiselessly, letting her forehead rest against it as she squeezes out a breath. He's not sure which girl is more captivating, and he has to ask.

"Do you want to keep her?"

She lies. "No."

/-/

The sun beats down in Kurt's backyard. It's the hottest day of the summer so far, awash with humidity so thick it would be easier to breathe with gills. The humidity had set in the night before, enveloping Lima in an oppressive moistness Quinn could only liken to a rain forest. Kurt had called at dusk, after the sun had gone down without taking the heat with it.

"A pool party," he'd said, "in celebration of another year of glee, and in protest of this offensive weather. It's only been a half hour and my hair is already curling."

Quinn lounges on a deck chair underneath the awning in the Hummel's backyard, her glass of lemonade sweating on the table next to her. Mercedes lies back in the chair next to her, sipping at the virgin strawberry daiquiri Kurt had made her, complete with a pink umbrella and bendy straw. Miraculously, everyone from glee had shown and scattered themselves appropriately across Kurt's backyard. Santana and Matt are locked in a death battle of Chicken against Brittany and Mike in the pool, splashing and shrieking and laughing and reminding Quinn of how free people can be in the summer. Artie, Tina, and Finn crowd around the grill, cooking burgers and hot dogs and tofu monstrosities for Rachel. Kurt is on a deck chair on the other side of the pool in the sun, meticulously slathering on sunscreen. Quinn tries not to look at Puck and Rachel, who are sitting in the grass away from the pool, heads bowed in conversation. Puck catches her looking and smiles, flexing his bicep and winking at her. Quinn allows herself to smile back before she hides behind her lemonade. At Puck's smirk, Rachel turns her head over her shoulder and catches Quinn's eye, smiling gently before she and Puck resume their talk, glancing back occasionally. Quinn bristles.

"I really need them to not become best friends," Quinn says to Mercedes, waving her drink at the two on the grass.

Mercedes rolls her eyes. "Girl, I'm a little more concerned with the argyle bikini. I mean, what store does she get all that from?"

Quinn snorts, glad for the distraction, but finds herself unwilling to say something like 'Brooks Brothers,' because Rachel does in fact look decidedly feminine. She's not sure which revelation is more startling, so she simply shrugs, taking a sip from her lemonade, and says, "Baby Gap?"

Mercedes' laugh is cut off by Brittany shrieking as she falls off of Mike's shoulders and into the pool. Mike sputters and shakes the water out of his hair, laughing even as Matt and Santana screech like hyenas at their victory. As Brittany resurfaces and launches herself at Matt, Quinn is reminded of last summer and how she spent it, playing Chicken on Finn's shoulders with the others and tickling whoever won until they fell in, too. As always, Matt dives away from Brittany's wiggling fingers, and Santana plunges from her perch into the cool water of the pool. Last summer they'd spent day after day playing in the pool, night after night in the woods off of Brittany's backyard making s'mores in the fire pit until one time, when walking through the trees with Finn, looking for a stick for her marshmallows, he'd curled her hair behind her ear and asked if he could kiss her. It wasn't her first kiss, but he was sweet and gentle, his fingers cupping the back of her head as his lips pressed to hers unmoving. She'd held a hand to his chest, and when he pulled back and looked nervously at her, barely visible in the darkness, she smiled, a real smile that she couldn't trace, and she giggled, burrowing into him, chaste and perfect. She could practically feel him grinning in her ear, and she knew, she just knew, her summer was going to be fantastic.

It's almost as if she can read Quinn's mind, the way Santana turns to look at her. Quinn has always liked Santana most in the summer, away from McKinley and Sue Sylvester and the gridlock of social rules. There had never been a need to be commanding or cruel in the summer; they were just them, Quinn and Santana and Brittany, and that's how Quinn loves them most.

Santana raises an eyebrow at Quinn and points her finger down at the water in front of her. Quinn just shakes her head, pointing to her lemonade. She knows it's a lame excuse even before Santana rolls her eyes, but it works, if only because Puck chooses that precise moment to take a running leap at the pool, coiling himself into a cannonball mid-air and crashing into the pool with a shout. The guys tackle him underwater, and completely ignore Kurt's screeching about being drenched by Puck's splash.

Rachel makes her way over to Quinn and Mercedes and sits gingerly on the chair next to Quinn.

"I'm not exactly a frequent guest at pool parties," she starts, swiping her finger across her hairline, "but I hear it's not uncommon for those who don't enter the pool willingly to be thrown in."

At this, Mercedes perks up, her hand immediately flying to pat down her hair. "Oh, uh uh. Not happening. I will cut Puck."

Rachel's eyes light up with mirth, bemused at Mercedes' reaction, and she looks at Quinn to smile.

"I came over here to see if you two wanted to go in- willingly, that is. It's boiling out here, and we're the only ones who haven't gone in yet."

Mercedes looks at Rachel with thinly veiled suspicion. "Is that what you and Puck were talking about? Are you in on it?"

"No," Rachel shakes her head, the smile still on her face. "I would like to go in, though. Do you want to?"

Mercedes shakes her head, eying Rachel nervously as she stands and backs away, heading over to Kurt. Quinn giggles, and Rachel turns to her.

"She thinks I want to throw her in, doesn't she?"

Unable to control her laughter, Quinn nods, speaking through it. "Totally. I don't know why, though." At Rachel's confused face, Quinn continues. "As if you could throw anyone into the pool, Berry."

Rachel's jaw drops slightly open, but her eyes still sparkle. It makes Quinn think that Rachel may actually be _fun_ to banter with.

"Quinn, Mercedes may be... larger than I am," her voice drops but never changes tone. "But I am quite certain that I could push her or anyone into a pool."

At that, the gentle smile that Quinn had grown so used to seeing on Rachel's face flattens into a slight curve. Rachel's eyes narrow wickedly as she slides her hand around Quinn's wrist.

"Berry?"

"Would you like to go for a walk with me, Quinn?" Rachel asks, already standing and tugging on Quinn's arm.

Quinn, incredulous that Rachel thinks she's that stupid, yanks her wrist out of Rachel's grasp and lies back on her lounge chair.

"I'm not even going to say nice try."

Rachel sits back down next to Quinn and gestures over to where Kurt finally coaxed Mercedes into the pool. The two are bobbing happily around the shallow end of the pool, each wearing a bright pink shower cap to protect their hair.

"I admit that that was not very well thought out, but," Rachel pauses mid-sentence to think and to curl a lock of hair behind her ear, briefly dropping her eyes down Quinn's frame when the girl takes a sip of her lemonade. "But maybe you'd like to go in? It's really hot, and it is a pool party after all. I promise I won't push you in."

Rachel trails off when she notices that Quinn is looking at her, calmly waiting for her to finish instead of interrupting.

"I'm fine here," Quinn says quietly, smiling when Rachel looks at her curiously.

"It's so hot. Aren't you hot in ... that?"

Quinn glances down at her sundress before leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Yes, she is hot. She can feel the heated moisture all over her skin that the cotton of her dress is keeping encased against her. The fabric is clinging to her back and her stomach and the backs of her thighs where the rubber slats of the chair press into her, and she wants nothing more than to dive headfirst into the water, but she can't. Everyone would look at her, and Puck would make jokes, and Brittany would ask why she's in the pool with a dress on. She shakes her head.

"I'm fine."

"Quinn-"

"Rachel, _please_," Quinn whimpers, turning her head away from Rachel to grab her sunglasses from the table. She shoves them on her face and bites the inside of her lip, trying to hold her tears in her eyes.

She hears Rachel let out a shaky breath next to her, but never hears the girl move.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rachel asks quietly, her voice even more delicate than it was after Finn had found out about the baby, even more delicate than when they were in the nursery.

"No."

"I'm sorry."

Quinn bites her lip. "It's fine, Rachel."

Rachel hesitates as she watches Quinn's brow scrunch as her eyes clamp shut even tighter. The blonde turns her head slightly away from Rachel, and Rachel briefly wonders around the guilt pounding in her chest if Quinn has enough control to cry out of only one eye.

"Okay," Rachel agrees quietly. She sits by Quinn's side and watches her friends in the pool, glancing at Quinn until the blonde's forehead relaxes and is smooth once more.

After a moment of silence, Quinn's head straightens. Rachel watches out of the corner of her eye as one of Quinn's hands moves to rest on her stomach, and realization dawns.

"Do you have a scar? I thought you had a natural birth."

Quinn stiffens next to her, but turns, still hidden behind her sunglasses.

"I don't have a scar."

Rachel nods, holding Quinn's gaze through her lenses. She continues cautiously.

"Then, what?" she asks, and Quinn nearly has to strain to hear her. "What is it?"

"I don't," Quinn starts and stops, her head tilting down, dragging her eyes from Rachel's. Rachel follows Quinn's eyes down to her own lap, but shakes her head at Quinn, confused. Quinn turns her head to where Brittany and Santana are climbing out of the pool. The girls don't bother to towel themselves off, instead flopping down on deck chairs and laying out in the sun.

"I don't look like that anymore."

Rachel looks at Quinn's hand where it rests low on her stomach, breath tremulous with empathy.

"Quinn, you're beautiful."

Quinn shakes her head rapidly, biting her lip until she seems to lose whatever battle is waging inside of her head. "Fuck, Rachel," she cries softly. Quinn is out of her chair in an instant and barging through the back door of the house, ripping her sunglasses off of her face and disappearing.

Later, when the group is huddled around a makeshift fire pit created begrudgingly at Brittany's unrelenting pout, Rachel sneaks glances at Quinn. The blonde is nestled safely between Santana and Mercedes, a fortress and a moat Rachel wouldn't dare approach unless Quinn offered her a drawbridge. Brittany's marshmallow drops into the fire and before her mouth can even turn downward, Santana plops her own marshmallow onto Brittany's s'more. Brittany squeals and smashes the other graham cracker onto the pile before taking a bite. Quinn watches the scene in amusement, then pulls her marshmallow away from the fire. She blows on it and turns to hold it out to Santana. Rachel looks away, but not before catching Santana's grateful smile and the way she rests her chin briefly on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn chooses the moment Santana sits up again to look at Rachel, and Rachel drops her gaze immediately, feeling as if she's intruded on a private moment. Her cheeks flush with warmth, and she lets herself be distracted when, next to her, Mike manages to set all seven of his marshmallows on fire.

Rachel catches Quinn's eye again eventually, and the blonde nods once at her, a half smile appearing at the corner of her mouth before she looks away and the moment is gone. Mercedes has her head bowed down with Kurt's as the two discuss something completely inaudible to Rachel's ears. Quinn sits quietly, amidst conversations that don't include her, and she fiddles with her graham crackers and leans into Santana. The brunette is busy talking to Brittany, but she leans back on her hands, sliding one behind Quinn to rest on the grass. Allowing what appears to be a semblance of a smile to cross her face, Quinn shifts slightly closer into Santana's side, tossing her graham crackers on the grass and closing her eyes to the soft strains of Puck's guitar.

Rachel listens, too, as the fire crackles and the crickets chirp and Puck's fingers meld arpeggios into melodies, all of it lovely except for the two graham crackers and the melted slab of chocolate lying in front of Quinn, uneaten.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel waits three days before calling Quinn.

"Hello?"

"Quinn, I was wondering what your plans are for tomorrow."

"Hello."

"Quinn, it's Rachel."

"_Hello."_

"Hi, Quinn."

"What do you have in mind?"

Rachel chuckles, lying back against her pillows and allowing her stomach to unclench.

"I treated myself to a yoga DVD as I've always wanted to try it. I was hoping you might want to try it with me."

Quinn is silent on the other end of the phone. Rachel closes her eyes and winces.

"Okay," Rachel hears, and her eyes pop back open.

"Really?"

"Sure."

-/-

When Quinn arrives at Rachel's door the following day, she's not quite sure what to expect, total normalcy or an inquisition. Rachel seems to pendulate between having no tact and too much, but Quinn is sick of denying the fact that although she doesn't have many of her own, Rachel really is an excellent friend. She's never actually hung out with Rachel before, barring the midnight hospital visit and Kurt's party, neither of which she thinks count, so she raises her hand and knocks.

The door swings open, and there's Rachel, smiling and looking altogether much more normal than Quinn thought she would. The brunette is wearing black running tights and a gray tank top that is neither argyle nor branded with Broadway designs or gold stars. Relieved, she steps in and follows Rachel through the house and down into the basement. Rachel has clearly thought this through; in front of the television on the floor are two yoga mats – both pink – two bottles of water, two pillows, and a fan.

They'd start off easy, or at least that's what Rachel had said when she popped in the DVD. Half an hour in, Quinn is pretty sure she could do yoga in a coma, but next to her, Rachel is frustrated and struggling. She drops her knee to the mat and pauses her stretch to breathe. Quinn is breathing easily, contorted into one of the "optional advanced positions" the instructor demonstrated, and looks almost as if she's asleep. Rachel swipes at her forehead and pushes up again, determined this time to last until told to relax.

When the video finally fades back to the main menu, Rachel flops onto her mat, waiting for her breathing to settle before scrambling up and turning on the fan. Looking back at Quinn, she sees the blonde just beginning to unfold herself, sighing quietly and rolling her neck and shoulders.

"That was good," Quinn says, one eyebrow arching when she sees Rachel nearly pressed against the fan.

No longer running on endorphins, Rachel sways, legs wobbly. "I don't think I can walk."

Quinn rolls her eyes playfully as she lies back on the mat. "What exactly is it that you do when you wake up at 6 every morning?"

Rachel narrows her eyes and totters back to her own mat, collapsing next to Quinn and staring at the ceiling. "The elliptical," she breathes, pulling her ponytail out from beneath her neck. "I go on the elliptical. It's much more civilized."

"Clearly," Quinn giggles, allowing her eyes to slip closed. "Water," she murmurs, waving her hand in Rachel's direction.

"Right." Rachel grabs the water bottle near her mat and chugs it greedily.

As she listens to the bubbly sounds of Rachel's water bottle and the soft humming of the fan, Quinn realizes that she's actually enjoying spending time with Rachel, and she wonders if Rachel's offer to spend time together extends past yoga. Quinn thinks the brunette might have her flaws. She talks too much, she can be way too blunt, and she falls in love too easily, and often with the wrong people, but she's determined to see the good in people, and Quinn thinks that makes her okay.

When Rachel finally takes a reprieve from her water, she rolls her head to the side to look at Quinn.

"Lunch?"

Quinn smiles.

-/-

"Did you have to do yoga for cheerleading?" Rachel asks later, when they're lying in the Berry's backyard. Quinn thinks that the hammock is quite possibly the best invention ever, and that if she wasn't so comfortable, she'd look up the inventor and write him a thank you note. Or she'd get Rachel to do it, because that seems like something she would do. The girls are lying side by side, feet dangling off the edge as they balance their plates on their chests. Quinn takes a bite of her sandwich, and Rachel pushes her feet off the grass, sending the hammock into the air again.

"No," Quinn replies, eyes closed to the gentle breeze washing over her face. She can't remember the last time she just sat outside and felt the wind on her face. "I've never done yoga before."

"What?" Rachel jerks up and the hammock rocks. Quinn is startled out of her subdued state and takes in Rachel's incredulous face. "But you were so good at it!"

Quinn shrugs. "The stuff we had to do for Cheerios was much worse."

Rachel huffs and falls back against the hammock, sending worried vibrations through the material. Quinn lowers a foot to the grass and pushes off, guiding the hammock into a smooth motion once more.

"Do you have summer plans?" Quinn asks. Rachel calmly chews on her sandwich, swallowing and taking a sip of water before answering.

"Not really. I was planning on going to a theatre workshop in Chicago, but now I'm just staying here and helping out with dance classes at the community center. It's important to give back, you know."

Quinn holds back an eye roll.

"What about you?"

Quinn should have known that question was coming. "I'm redoing the house with my mom," Quinn says quietly, watching the wind bend the grass to avoid Rachel's eyes. If Rachel realizes that Quinn says 'the house' instead of 'my house,' she doesn't let on. Quinn isn't exactly sure what to call it. She had called it 'my house' right up until the day she was invited back into it, and now she doesn't know what terminology to use. Every place she's lived in since being kicked out has been more of a home than what her parents had given her. Finn was always attentive, if a little dim. He never hesitated to carry her things or rub her back or play the drums on her hands with carrots until she laughed. He and his mom were always welcoming, and she knows that if she didn't feel so gut-wrenchingly guilty all the time, she would have loved living there. Puck's house provided a sort of family dynamic she always felt she was missing. Even though Mr. Puckerman was long gone, the family spent much of their time together when they were at home. They ate dinner together every night, not just on Sundays, and as long as she kept kosher, Quinn was made to feel as if she belonged.

Mercedes' home is Quinn's favorite. She'd hardly stepped through the front door that first day when Mercedes' mom had scooped her up in a hug filled with every emotion her own mother had never managed to show her. It's always comfortable there. The rules are fair and reasonable, and above all, everyone in the Jones household loves and respects everyone else. They're equals, and Quinn feels that she's regaining the strength she once had from the strength Mercedes has had all along.

"Redoing the house?" Rachel asks, looking at Quinn curiously.

Quinn nods. "My mom kicked my dad out because he was having an affair," she trails off and looks at Rachel. Rachel's expression doesn't change, but Quinn feels the blood rush to her face anyway. "That seems to be a trend in my family," she shrugs, trying to keep the self-deprecation out of her voice.

Rachel doesn't tilt her head in sympathy like Quinn expects her to. She doesn't lay a comforting hand on Quinn's arm or tell her that everybody makes mistakes. Instead, she holds her gaze with Quinn, and she laughs.

Quinn raises an eyebrow, and this time Rachel does touch her arm. She flattens her palm on Quinn's forearm and wraps her fingers around until she's clutching onto Quinn to keep from falling off the hammock. The sandwich falls out of Rachel's other hand, but Rachel just keeps laughing. The noise tickles Quinn's ears until the blonde can't help but smile, confused, even as the hammock trembles from the chuckles pealing from Rachel's stomach. There's peanut butter smeared on Rachel's thigh, jelly on the hem of her tank top, and Rachel's peering up at Quinn from beneath her eyelashes, teeth sinking into her bottom lip to hold back the threatening remains of her laughter.

Rachel sees the curious amusement on the blonde's face and allows her lips to spread into the smile they've been aching for. Quinn smiles back at her hesitantly, that one eyebrow still raised, though it has none of the bite it once did.

"I'm sorry," Rachel manages. "It's just so ironic. I appreciate that your mother is so equal opportunity."

Quinn should probably feel offended, but she can only laugh. Of course Rachel would say that. "It's okay," she says, still chuckling. "He's been a hypocrite all his life. It's about time someone punished him for it."

At this, Rachel sobers. She picks up her fallen sandwich and sets it back on her plate, squeezing Quinn's arm before returning her hand to her lap.

"So you're redoing the house because your dad isn't there?"

Quinn sighs and leans over the side of the hammock to place her plate on the ground. "She asked me to move back in with her after Regionals before we went to the hospital," Quinn says. Part of her still thinks it's absurd that she's telling all of this to _Rachel Berry,_ but the girl has proved time and time again that she's a good friend, and if Quinn has learned anything in the past nine months, it's that that's exactly what she needs.

"I went back after I came home from the hospital, but it was awful, walking through that door." Quinn winces at the memory, and Rachel's brows knit together. "All I could think about was the night they made me leave. It never really felt like home, more like some crazy cross between a museum and a horrible boarding school.

"It's funny," she continues, "all this time I've wanted nothing more than to go back and sleep in my own bed again. Apparently it doesn't quite have the same feel once you've been kicked out of it."

Rachel lets out a breath and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, surprised to find herself wishing beyond anything that Quinn could just feel comfortable for once.

"So redoing the house will make it home," she says, realizing what Quinn has been trying to tell her.

The blonde perks up and nods. "Hopefully. I've been staying at Mercedes' still. I go back to my mom's for dinner sometimes or to sleep over once in a while, but it's not really home anymore, you know?" She looks at Rachel, and the brunette nods silently. "My mom never liked the way the house looked. She picked out the colors and everything, but not the 'no touching' rule," Quinn smiles, and Rachel thinks that means that she's allowed to smile too, so she does.

"We're doing it together," Quinn says. "We'll decorate it the way we want to, and then it'll be our home, instead of my dad's. I think it will be better that way."

Rachel nods, a gentle smile breaking across her face. Quinn finds it contagious, and smiles back.

"I think that's a marvelous idea, Quinn."

Quinn thinks her heart feels just a little bit lighter.

-/-

Over the next week, Rachel invites Quinn over for yoga three more times. Quinn accepts all three times. Rachel still goes on her elliptical each morning, needing a sort of physical activity she excels at before Quinn comes over and makes Rachel feel like the closest thing she can do to yoga is touching her toes. Her body, though conditioned, is utterly unsuited for yoga, and more often than not, Rachel finds herself struggling through the basic positions while watching Quinn glide effortlessly between the advanced ones. Rachel absolutely hates yoga, but Quinn loves it, so Rachel pretends. She can't quite bring herself to express her displeasure because Quinn has started showing up at the door with a bright smile and two smoothies instead of a timid knock and constant glances over her shoulder.

It's been a little over a week since the party at Kurt's, and Puck has called for a party at his house since his mother is away for a few days taking his sister to sleep-away camp. It's a Saturday, and Rachel sticks her head out of her room when she hears her dad's muffled call to her from downstairs. She's about to head down the stairs to ask for clarification when Quinn comes bounding up, a flurry of blonde hair, and pushes straight past Rachel and into her room.

When she regains her balance, Rachel steps back into her bedroom to find Quinn waist-deep in her closet.

"Um, hi Quinn."

Quinn barely acknowledges her before diving back in.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, Quinn, because I am, and you're certainly welcome here at any time, even without prior notification like today, but may I ask what you're doing to my closet?"

When Quinn comes up for air, her back straightening to pull her head out to meet Rachel, Rachel feels a sliver of dread run down her spine. Quinn is holding an assortment of shirts in her arms, and her eyes swivel back to the section of the closet Rachel knows houses her jeans. She looks nervously at the blonde, and once she sees the predatory look in Quinn's eyes, she knows she's in for something.

Quinn holds the clothes in her arms and rakes her eyes over Rachel. Instinctively, Rachel crosses her arms over her stomach, feeling the need to protect herself from Quinn's gaze. She realizes that Quinn's appraisal, while searing, is not rapacious like it used to be. Quinn isn't looking at her for grounds on which to criticize, but she still doesn't know what Quinn's doing. Rachel swallows as Quinn's eyes remain locked on her, caught, and for a moment, unable to breathe. When Quinn finally tears her eyes away from Rachel's body, Rachel lets out a breath and feels herself deflate.

"Quinn?"

But Quinn is thrusting clothes at her: a pair of jeans, a burgundy tank top, a shimmery black cardigan she doesn't remember buying.

"Try that on."

"For what?" Rachel's question draws Quinn out of her trance, and she looks up at Rachel.

"Puck's party tonight," she says simply, like Rachel is crazy for asking.

_Oh._ Rachel feels a thrum of something in her stomach and behind her ears as a smile tears onto her face. Quinn came over, unannounced, to help her pick out something to wear to the party, and from the looks of it, Rachel realizes, as she takes in the choice of clothes in her arms and the expression on Quinn's face, Quinn is serious. The blonde is standing in front of the open doors of the closet, calmly waiting for Rachel to say something. Rachel opens her mouth to talk, but she can't, because this is what girls do before parties. This is what friends do. Quinn is her friend. This is what having a _friend_ feels like. _Oh._

Rachel doesn't know whether to hug Quinn or go straight to trying the clothes on. She takes a step forward, arms itching and mouth still slightly parted from before, but Quinn is raising that eyebrow again, a questioning but amused smirk that is quickly becoming familiar on her face. Rachel stops, snaps her mouth shut and into a smile, and runs into the bathroom to change.

She checks herself in the mirror one last time after slipping the cardigan over her shoulders. It's not the outfit she would have picked, but she and Quinn are very different. Rachel decides that this is good enough, but it has room for embellishment. She walks back into her bedroom and once again only sees Quinn's legs. The rest of the blonde is buried among her clothes, and Rachel calls out to her nervously.

"Quinn?"

No answer.

"Quinn?" she says a little louder.

The blonde coughs and stumbles back, wiping her eyes and coughing. Rachel's eyebrows shoot up, and she glares at her closet accusatively.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Quinn chokes out, coughing once more. She rubs at her eyes with a fist and sniffles. "I think all the argyle suffocated me."

Rachel's mouth drops open as Quinn takes her hands away from her face to reveal a devilish smile. The blonde's eyes are gleaming, lit up with jollity, and it takes every ounce of willpower Rachel has not to smile back at her.

"I'll have you know that argyle is very fashionable."

"It was. Once. I saw a cave drawing of it in a museum." Quinn is practically floating in her satisfaction, her hips swiveling back and forth in a subtle victory dance.

"How long have you been planning that joke, Quinn?" Rachel asks, arms crossed once again. One day Rachel will tell Quinn that this moment reassures her that she is the excellent actress she always thought herself to be, for she is sure that with any less talent, she would have been grinning along with Quinn. Telling her now, though, would just concede defeat, and that just wouldn't do.

"Which one?"

"Both."

"For _ever,_" Quinn huffs out, still grinning. Rachel feels that she has the right to be offended, but she just can't when Quinn is smiling like that. "Let's see."

Quinn's expression changes, and she's regarding Rachel much like she did before. Rachel feels slightly uncomfortable when Quinn's forehead scrunches and she shakes her head.

"Nope," she says, and turns to the closet once more.

"While I agree that this isn't the best outfit I could wear tonight, I don't think it's altogether deplorable, Quinn."

Quinn mutters something about warm colors and hisses the word "argyle" several more times before emerging with her next batch of clothes.

It isn't until four outfits and as many hours later when Rachel hops into the back of Mercedes' car that night that she realizes she never helped Quinn pick an outfit. When she tries to peek around the front seat to see what Quinn is wearing, Mercedes barks at her.

"Girl, put your seat belt on. We're late. Looking good, though."

"Agreed," Kurt hums lethargically. "I hate to admit it, but black suits you. I, of course, figured that out ages ago."

Quinn turns around from the passenger seat to smile at Rachel, and Rachel feels the slightest twinge of guilt at the wave of relief that Quinn didn't play a trick on her. Quinn had sentenced Rachel away from her own closet, choosing instead to fling items of clothing at the brunette from across the room. She'd landed on a black, low-cut top and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, and Rachel has to admit that she feels confident, at least.

The second after they've tumbled out of the car, Quinn snatches the keys away from Mercedes, securing them safely in her purse. Inside, Brittany latches onto Quinn's arm and drags her over to Santana in the living room. Rachel flounders for a moment before a roar erupts from the kitchen. She snaps her gaze away from the living room and follows Kurt and Mercedes into the kitchen.

The rest of the glee club had pulled the kitchen table out into the center of the room and divided themselves on either side of it. There are beer bottles strewn about the counter tops, and Puck stands at the head of the table refilling red cups. They all look up at the sudden intrusion.

"Kurt! Mercedes!" Puck calls out. "Want in?"

The two look at each other and shrug. Kurt tugs his jacket down from over his shoulders and places it in the pantry as they make their way to opposite sides of the table. Puck cheers and grabs two more cups. Brittany bounds into the kitchen to find Rachel standing in the corner, hand clasped to her elbow and biting her lip nervously. The blonde chuckles and walks over to stand next to her. Rachel looks up at her, her face a portrait of self-doubt and Brittany cocks her head. Rachel thinks she looks like a puppy.

"What are they doing?" Rachel asks quietly.

"Flip Cup," Brittany says with a smile.

Rachel nods her head as she watches the game until she feels Brittany's hand on her arm.

"Want a drink?"

Rachel's eyes widen and she shakes her head, her hand releasing her elbow to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Oh, no. I shouldn't."

"Come on," Brittany says lightly, brushing her fingers through Rachel's hair. "I make good ones, and you look super fine."

Rachel straightens and flushes, ducking her head to hide her smirk as she follows Brittany to the bar Puck had fashioned out of a section of the counter. She turns once more to watch the game as Brittany stretches and grabs for bottles. Artie slams his cup down on the table and moves it to the edge. He slides his fingers under the rim and flicks his finger, landing the cup perfectly, and his side of the table erupts in a yell. The losing side – Mike, Kurt, Mercedes, and Finn – slump in defeat. Mike immediately begins to refill the cups.

"Here," Brittany says, and thrusts a cup into Rachel's hand and disappears. Rachel looks down and finds herself with her own red cup. She smells it.

"It should be fine," Finn says, making his way over to her. "Brittany's usually really good at that."

"Hi, Finn," Rachel says with a smile. She brings the cup to her lips and takes a small sip. Not bad. It tastes like bitter pineapple.

"Good?" he asks her.

She nods. She hasn't seen much of Finn in the couple weeks of summer they've had so far, so she isn't quite sure where they stand. Rachel had been mindful of Quinn at Kurt's party and had for the most part steered clear of him. But now he's in front of her, smiling that dopey grin, and she can't help but smile back.

"Hudson!"

They turn, and Mike has finished filling the cups. He beckons Finn over, and Finn glances over his shoulder at Rachel and grins.

"Berry!" Rachel looks up to see Puck crooking a finger at her. "Start us off."

Rachel grins and takes another sip of her drink. "Ready. Set. Go!"

-/-

Quinn allows Brittany to tug her into the living room and plops down on the couch next to Santana. Santana leans into Quinn and bumps her shoulder before lifting her cup to her lips. Brittany is up again, fiddling with the stereo until she finds a song she likes. Brittany has always been like this at parties. She never sits still. She has boundless amounts of energy, but she always makes sure everyone has a good time. Once she finds her song, she's off, and Quinn sighs as she watches Brittany go into the kitchen and start talking to Rachel.

"She bothering you, Q?" Santana asks, keeping her eyes on Brittany as she rests the rim of the cup on her bottom lip.

"Who?"

"The midget."

Quinn sighs again, picking at a seam in her dress. "She's not a midget."

"The hobbit."

"She's not a hobbit."

"The elf."

"Aren't they tall?"

Santana drops the cup to her lap to glare at Quinn. A few drops of her drink splash onto Santana's hand, and she picks it up to her mouth.

"In Lord of the Rings they're tall and badass and gorgeous. In the North Pole they're short and dorky and have terrible fashion sense. Which one do you think I meant?" Santana inspects her hand and, deeming it drink-free, rests it down again.

Quinn just looks at her. "What did you just say?"

"I'm drunk."

Quinn leans her head back on the couch cushions. "She's not so bad, you know."

Santana sighs. "She can't be if she's got you smiling again," She says quietly.

Quinn turns to look at her, a smile spreading slowly across her face, but Santana stares resolutely into her cup.

"Why, Santana Lopez-"

"Drunk. I'm drunk and not responsible for anything I've said. I swear, Britt makes the strongest drinks..."

Allowing the smile to fully take over her face, Quinn just giggles, leaning in to press a kiss to Santana's cheek. "I love you too, Santana."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Gross."

Quinn's laughter is cut short when Brittany reappears and wiggles her way between Quinn and Santana on the couch. Brittany leans over and places a sloppy kiss on each of their cheeks.

"Uh, B?" Quinn asks, looking at Brittany.

Brittany shrugs. "I like it best when you two are friends," she says simply, then turns and offers Quinn her drink.

"Absolutely not," Quinn laughs. She pushes the cup away, but not before she catches a whiff of the drink. "Not for a long time."

"It's pineapple."

"It's all rum, Britt."

"Rachel had one."

Santana sits up at this and eyes Brittany with a smirk. "A whole one?"

"Duh," Brittany says, taking a sip of her own.

"Bet she's a lightweight," Santana says, wiggling her eyebrows at Quinn.

"Britt," Quinn laughs, shaking her head. "She's so small, and she never drinks. Why'd you give her a whole one?"

Brittany's forehead furrows when she looks at Quinn. "What?"

Santana cackles, and Quinn rolls her eyes, lifting herself off the couch. "I need some water."

Quinn makes her way out of the living room and toward the kitchen just as the games are ending. The group shuffles by her, patting her shoulder and mumbling hellos. Quinn goes straight for the sink, snatching a clean cup from the stack and shoving it under the faucet. She looks out of the other entrance and into the hallway to see Finn and Rachel and talking in a corner. Finn is resting his arm on the wall near Rachel's head as he stoops nearly in half to talk to her. Rachel grins up at him, her back against the wall and her empty cup swinging from her teeth. Finn reaches his free hand up and plays with the loose sleeve of Rachel's shirt, twining his fingers in the fabric as they murmur quietly to each other. Quinn turns her ear toward them discreetly, but she can't hear them. Rachel lights up with laughter and the cup slips from her mouth, and Quinn jumps as the water pours over the top of the cup onto her hand.

"Hey you."

Quinn jumps again and whips her head around. Puck is looking at her with his head tilted and a small smile playing on his lips. He shuts the faucet off and rests his hip on the counter and just looks at her, and Quinn suddenly feels like she hasn't had any water in years.

"Hey."

"You okay?"

His body language is so different. His shoulders are hunched, hands shoved into his pockets. Looking at him, Quinn is almost fooled into thinking they're the same size.

"Yeah," she whispers. "Fine."

He chuckles nervously, because he is, because being alone with her makes him nervous.

"You look good, Quinn."

She falters, leaning back on her heels.

"Puck..."

She's not sure it's okay, what they're doing - building whatever they're building over the loss of a child. But Puck steps closer and winds his arms around her waist, and her body betrays her. She falls into him, squeezing his shoulders and breathing him in.

"You do. You look good. Really good," he murmurs, and she squeezes her eyes shut against his chest as he warms her like the first sips of a wine cooler. His hands smooth the fabric at her upper back, and she presses the side of her head into his cheek. This Puck is intoxicating, completely unlike the immature, magnetic Puck she knew so many months ago, and she wants to just shutter her head in his neck and hide and just breathe. But he's squeezing her and easing her away from his chest, and when he kisses her cheek her eyes flutter closed and she presses into him.

"You've been hanging out with Berry, right?" he says, pulling away and detaching from her completely, and the moment is gone.

"Yeah, a little," she says, glancing over her shoulder to find Rachel, but she and Finn are gone.

"You seem happier, you know? It's nice."

Quinn opens her mouth to respond, but realizes that yes, she is happier.

"Boo!" Quinn hears, and there's Rachel, giggling maniacally and grinning.

Puck laughs, shaking his head as he leaves the kitchen. He glances back at Quinn, eyes meeting hers and lingering before he disappears into the living room. Quinn lets out a breath and turns back to Rachel.

"Rachel," Quinn nods, holding back a smirk and leaning back against the sink.

Rachel ducks her head and looks up at Quinn, eyes alight with mischief. "Hi, Quinn."

"Hi, Rachel."

Rachel giggles, throwing her head back and tilting her body to the side. "Quinn, you're so blonde." She reaches for Quinn's hair but smacks Quinn's cheek, which sets her off again. "Quinn! Quinn, I'm sorry."

"Okay, okay." Quinn grabs both of Rachel's wrists and holds her in place. She can't help the amusement from showing on her face, and Rachel immediately smiles up at her. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Rachel tries to move her hand and wrinkles her nose when she realizes Quinn is still holding onto it. Instead, she brings her face to her hand and taps her finger on her nose.

"I think- I think sleeping. And then eating. And maybe-"

"Do you want to hang out?"

Rachel gasps and wrinkles her nose even more. "Yoga." She sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry, then giggles at the noise.

Quinn bites her lip. "No, like two people hanging out, instead of working out."

"Yes!" Rachel gasps again, leaning back so violently she'd fall if Quinn wasn't holding her arms.

"Yes?"

"No! I can't!"

"Okay, well-"

"Finn wants to go on a date tomorrow," Rachel giggles. Quinn freezes, feeling her breath halt in her throat, and she wonders what it was about the pre-baby Quinn Fabray that let her have everyone at the same time.

"Oh."

Rachel, through her drunken haze, seems to realize her mistake and balks. Quinn lets her go this time, and Rachel goes stumbling backwards.

"Quinn, I'm sorry."

"It's-" she pauses, looking at Rachel. Up until a second ago, Rachel had been smiling and laughing and having fun, and she feels that just like with Puck, the moment is gone. "It's okay," she murmurs, and Rachel's shoulders drop. "You should go."

"Quinn, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," Quinn says again, and she looks at Rachel, whose lip is trembling, and she sighs, sliding an arm around Rachel's shoulder and pulling her into her side. Rachel turns into Quinn fully and squeezes her, and Quinn pats Rachel's back. "Do you want to go?"

Rachel nods hesitantly against her shoulder, and Quinn pulls away to look at her. "Then go," she says, putting a smile on her face.

Rachel nods again and watches as Quinn picks her cup up off of the counter and carries it into the living room, slipping onto the couch next to Santana.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel takes a deep breath and curls her hair behind her ears, looking at her reflection one last time before she hurries down the stairs. She opens the door just as Finn is lifting his hand to ring the bell again, and he laughs nervously.

"Hi, Rachel."

"Hi, Finn."

Rachel looks over her shoulder and waves to her dads in the living room. They wave back at her and Finn, and next to her, Finn raises his hand awkwardly to wave back at them. They have met Finn before, when he was at her house the first time. Rachel prefers not to think about that. She and Finn walk down her walkway, and Rachel is pleasantly surprised when Finn opens the passenger door of his car for her.

The ride to the mall is uneventful. An old Beatles song hums softly through the speakers, soothing Rachel with its familiarity. As Finn grips the steering wheel, turning them gently into the parking lot, Rachel glances over at him. He's wearing khakis and a black polo shirt. She exhales nervously, digging her nails into the fabric of the seat and squeezing as Finn eases the car over a speed bump. She's not quite sure which is worse, the realization that Finn is more dressed up than she is, or that she's wearing an outfit that Finn's ex-girlfriend picked out for her. Both thoughts make her feel more than a little guilty.

After her first pseudo-date with Finn at the bowling alley, she realized that while skirts were acceptable for school activities, dates with a jock might require something a little more concealing. She chose the first outfit Quinn had picked out for her for Puck's party. It seemed like an excellent idea at the time, but now, as she steps out of the car and allows Finn to take her hand, all she can do is wonder how Finn would feel if he knew. She wonders how Quinn would feel if _she_ knew.

Rachel feels a shiver of delight run through her arm when Finn tugs gently on her hand, stopping her from heading toward the bowling alley. A girlish smile peals onto her face when he grins down at her, nodding his head toward Breadstix.

"I thought we'd go to dinner first, then a movie."

"That sounds lovely, Finn."

Finn grins his dopey grin at her and she follows him into the restaurant.

-/-

"So I've been thinking," Finn begins as the waitress places their food on the table. Rachel glances up and smiles at her, tucking her napkin into her lap. "We should do some more cool songs in Glee this year."

Rachel sets down her fork, desperately hoping that Finn doesn't want her to put KISS make up on her face. That would be much harder to take off than a slushie. She tucks some hair behind her ear and wipes her hands on her napkin.

"Like what, Finn?"

"I think we should do a Bruce song. Like 'Born to Run' or 'Glory Days'." Finn pauses to take a bite of his cheeseburger. "Or maybe we could do another Doors song. I like them."

Rachel picks up her fork again and stabs a bite of salad. "I think that we should get back into show tunes, Finn. We are a show choir, after all, and we haven't done a number from a Broadway musical in quite some time. I would love for us to do 'Don't Cry For Me, Argentina' from Evita or for the boys to do 'There is Nothin' Like a Dame' from South Pacific, or for the girls to do the 'Cell Block Tango' from Chicago. The first would be a solo for me, of course, and the last I think might be a bit too risque, but I think with enough styling it might be perfect."

Rachel looks across the table at Finn, who looks a bit like a lost puppy. His head is tilted to one side, and his grip on his fork has loosened to the point where it dangles dangerously from his hand.

"What?" he says, his forehead creasing.

Rachel sighs and eats her salad.

Halfway through dinner the conversation has shifted to Mr. Schuester's alleged romance with Ms. Pillsbury, and Rachel finds herself laughing and having a genuinely good time. When the check arrives, Finn pays for it, and Rachel smiles at him gratefully. They leave the restaurant and she slips his hand into his.

"Do you want to see a movie?" Finn asks, raising his free hand to point in the direction of the movie theatre.

"Sure," Rachel nods, ducking her head and wishing that she wore a skirt instead of jeans. "I'm sorry I'm not dressed properly, Finn. I thought we'd be bowling like last time, so I wore this. I should have known when I saw you at the door that we weren't doing that."

Finn's head tilts again into what Rachel identified months ago as his signature confused expression.

"You look great, Rachel. You should wear jeans more often."

Rachel opens her mouth and closes it again, choosing instead to nod. "Thank you. You look handsome, Finn."

"Thanks."

-/-

The movie theatre is small, but not too crowded, and after some deliberation over which movie to see, Finn and Rachel settle into their seats. Rachel wiggles around until she's comfortable. When the previews start, Rachel sees Finn yawn out of the corner of her eye. She frowns. She's not exactly thrilled on the movie choice, but she's glad they were able to come to a compromise. Finn had wanted to see _Iron Man 2_, a movie Rachel considers to be overly dramatic, way too action-packed, and entirely too unrealistic, what with its flying hunks of metal and barbaric propensities, to see on a date. She had instead suggested _Sex and the City 2,_ milking the series' well-known tendency toward romance and strong female characters for her argument. Finn had, as Rachel suspected, politely wormed his way out of seeing that movie, and the two decided on _Killers_ as a compromise.

When the previews are over and the lights dim to signal the start of the feature film, Finn yawns again, stretching his arms into the air.

"Are you tired, Finn?"

Finn jumps, as if startled, and looks at Rachel with a bewildered expression. "Uh, yeah. A little. Are you?"

"No, Finn," Rachel stresses his name, and he raises his eyebrows defensively. She sighs. "I get the proper amount of sleep every night, and as a growing teenager, you should be doing the same."

"Right, Rach," Finn whispers back. "Sorry."

A few minutes into the movie the tension leaves Rachel's shoulders and she relaxes. Next to her, she hears an exaggerated deep breath and looks over irritatedly to see Finn stretching and covering his mouth with the other hand. Rachel huffs.

"Finn!" she hisses.

Finn startles again and brings his arm down across the back of Rachel's chair, looking slightly guilty as he smiles at her. Rachel draws in a breath as realization dawns. Finn turns his attention back to the movie and cups his hand over Rachel's shoulder, squeezing gently as he pulls her into his side. Rachel dips her head down and bites her lip, a warm flush settling over her cheeks and across her collarbone.

"I'm sorry I whisper-yelled at you," she murmurs.

Finn just smiles at her and strokes his thumb back and forth across her shoulder. The irritation is long gone, and a more unusual sensation settles in the depths of her chest. Feeling the warmth from Finn's hand spread down her back, Rachel bites her lip and rests her head on his shoulder.

-/-

The air is a bit colder when Rachel steps gingerly onto the curb in front of her house. Finn rounds the hood of the car and closes the door for her, grinning at her crookedly as he takes her hand. Rachel realizes belatedly, as they climb the several steps to her front door, that this is her first official date with Finn. None of the other times she's spent with him seem to count as he steps in front of her and clasps her other hand with his own. She looks up, the sound fading from her ears as she watches. Finn's head ducks down, eyes flicking closed as his lips brush hers. It's soft, like the stroke of his thumb on her shoulder, and just when she remembers to close her eyes, it's over. Finn his straightening, Rachel is letting out a breath, and Finn laughs, awkwardly mumbling his "I had a good time"s and "Goodnight, Rachel"s before he drops one of her hands and takes a step back. The sound wooshes back to her ears, and she hears crickets and the summer breeze, and she remembers to say goodnight before she opens the door.

When the door clicks shut behind her, Rachel blinks. She flips the lock on the door and shuts the light off before she goes upstairs. Rachel sighs when she enters her room. She sets her purse down on her desk and looks around. It's no different than it was when she left earlier this evening; she feels no different herself. She's not quite sure why she expected to. Rachel grabs new pajamas from her drawer and sets them on her bed, turning the date over in her mind. Finn had been the same as always. He was a gentleman, polite and considerate and chivalrous, nearly to a fault, and Rachel huffs, whipping around and stalking into her bathroom. She's unsatisfied. She's unsatisfied because she feels unsatisfied, and she's pissed about it.

It had been different when she dated Jesse. Rachel squeezes some toothpaste out onto her brush and slips mindlessly into her evening bathroom routine. Jesse was fiery. He was passionate in a way that prickled Rachel's skin into goose bumps and made her follow him breathlessly, just to see the next wonder he could find. The world was made of wonders with Jesse, fickle and capricious as he was. Everything about him was electric, and Rachel often felt as though he was a firefly and she a child, waiting with bated breath for the next time he would light up.

Rachel spits out her toothpaste and rinses her mouth before beginning to wash her face. Her romp with Noah was similar, short as it was. She had felt wild and free as he tossed her to the bed, caught up in the thrill of something new as they'd rolled, lips pressing together over and over again. For all of his airs as a stud and a bad boy, Noah had been surprisingly gentle as he cradled her, lips insistent but undemanding all at once. She felt as in control as she had reckless, and it had crumbled to pieces.

Perhaps that was the problem, Rachel reasons as she finishes up in the bathroom. The relationships she's had in the past have been based on whims and off-chances, and although she developed feelings for both boys, the relationships came first. Then they had fizzled away. It's different with Finn. She's felt this way about him for months, and now that they are finally progressing toward a relationship, they're ready for it. They've had time to think about it, and maybe in the end, that's what will separate this from the others. Finn isn't an impulse.

Rachel smiles. That's it. She feels better. She takes her pajamas from off her quilt and sets them down on the vanity in front of her mirror. As she looks at her reflection, an edge of uneasiness creeps into her calm. She looks just as she did last night before Noah's party, when Quinn had been over and picking out her clothes. Rachel's focus drifts from her face to her clothes, eying herself in her reflection and fighting the guilt that's creeping over her like a fog. It's not really something she understands, this newfound loyalty to Quinn. She was friends with Finn first, after all, and Quinn had been terrible. But she changed, and then she changed again, and now they're _friends_. While Rachel isn't quite sure of the official rules, she's pretty sure that friends don't date their friend's ex-boyfriends, and girlfriends don't befriend their boyfriends' ex-girlfriends. As Rachel slowly pulls the cardigan from her shoulders, she finds that she's not quite sure who came first in which setting, but that she wants to keep both of them. She's pretty sure that's not possible.

After she's pulled on her pajamas, Rachel looks down. Her jeans are on the floor with the tank top and cardigan, looking much like they had yesterday when Quinn deemed them unworthy and thrust a new outfit into Rachel's arms. Rachel shakes her head, reaching for her phone and falling into bed. She pulls the covers over her waist and hovers her thumb over Quinn's name. It's a summer evening. Quinn is probably out with Brittany and Santana, or Puck, and not alone where she can talk on the phone. And what does Rachel even have to say, anyway? Rachel huffs, throwing her head back into her pillow and rolling over, snapping the switch on her light and plunging the room into darkness. She opens up a new text message to Quinn and sighs, typing a few words and hitting the send button before she changes her mind. She switches her phone to silent and turns it upside down on her nightstand before rolling over so she wouldn't see when it didn't light up.

-/-

The sun wakes Rachel up the next morning, peeking in through the curtains and throwing light splatters across the room like a child would throw paint on a canvas. It bends and dips with the morning and slides across Rachel's eyes. The brunette sits straight up in bed, disoriented and yet instantly awake. Rachel whips around to look at her alarm clock. The device seems improperly named this morning as it's nearly ten o'clock and the alarm hasn't gone off. That's when Rachel remembers. Finn. She must have forgotten to set her alarm last night in her distraction. Rachel's eyes shift from her clock to the clothes from last night, and tightness teases its way into Rachel's chest like a balloon. She flicks her eyes to her phone.

Cradling the smooth metal, Rachel plucks the phone off of her nightstand and flips it over in her hand. One new message from Quinn. It feels like the balloon in Rachel's stomach deflates as she lets out a breath of relief. In a flash she remembers the exact contents of her message to Quinn. _Hi Quinn. Does your offer to hang out still stand?_

She opens the message.

_Yeah. Help me pick a color for my room?_

Rachel smiles- beams, in fact, and texts Quinn back.

Twenty minutes after Quinn texted her an address and told her not to eat breakfast, Rachel knocks on Quinn's — Mrs. Fabray's? She's not sure — front door. A woman with blonde hair pulled back into a clasp and Quinn's eyes opens the door and smiles, swinging the door open wider and stepping to the side.

"Hi. You must be Rachel. I'm Judy Fabray. Come in."

Rachel steps across the threshold just as Quinn appears. The blonde is holding two large thermoses, and she thrusts the one covered in polka dots at Rachel.

"Smoothie," she says as she grabs Rachel's wrist and tugs her toward the stairs. "Come on."

Rachel turns back as she follows Quinn, shoulders twisting awkwardly above her waist to look at Quinn's mom.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Fabray," she calls, stumbling backwards and sideways and waving until she hits something. Judy waves back and chuckles as the girls bound up the stairs.

"This is it," Quinn says, dropping Rachel's wrist to make a grand sweeping gesture with her hand as they step into her room. "It's usually neater, but we're getting ready to paint it."

Quinn's features are alight with excitement, and after their talk on the hammock, Rachel is relieved to see Quinn so happy in her old room. The room is indeed fairly messy. The furniture has been pulled away from the walls, and all of the loose items are piled in the center of the room. Painters' cloths line the floors beneath the walls — lavender — and there is a myriad of different color swatches on the wall opposite Quinn's bed.

"I've narrowed it down to these," Quinn says, pointing to the swatch wall. The wall looks like a patchwork quilt. There are twelve different squares of colors painted in neat rows. Rachel regards the wall hesitantly.

"Narrowed it down from what, exactly?" she says, looking back to Quinn and raising an eyebrow.

Quinn smirks, one corner of her mouth raising up before she grabs something off of her desk.

"This," she says, fanning out the swatch book like a deck of cards. There must be thousands of colors in there. Rachel's eyes widen and she shudders.

"Right. Have you had Kurt over here?"

It's Quinn's turn to shudder, and she does so dramatically. She wiggles her shoulders and shakes her head, and Rachel giggles.

"Are you crazy? He'd probably want me to line my walls with Persian rugs or something."

Rachel laughs and nods, because she knows Quinn's right. She moves over to the wall and studies the colors, trying to imagine each on the walls of Quinn's room. It would have helped if she had seen Quinn's room before the initial steps at remodeling, and she nearly asks Quinn why she hadn't asked Santana and Brittany to help her. She doesn't ask though, because the warmth in her stomach and her shoulders tells her she's glad Quinn chose her. Rachel turns to look at the room and tries to imagine it from the positions of the furniture.

"Thanks for helping," Quinn says quietly, stepping closer to Rachel. "I know I have a lot left, but it's hard to decide what I want to wake up to every day for the next two years, you know?" Rachel nods. Quinn takes a sip of her smoothie, and Rachel smiles when she sees Quinn's thermos.

"Go Cheerios?"

Quinn flushes and looks at the thermos as well. She shrugs. "I always liked the swag. Sorry about the polka dots," she says, nodding her head at Rachel's hand. "I didn't have an argyle one."

Rachel barks out a laugh and swats at Quinn's arm, taking a step closer. "Very funny, Quinn."

Quinn grins and holds Rachel's gaze. "I thought so."

Rachel can't help but smile. She grabs Quinn's free hand and tugs until Quinn is standing next to her, looking at the wall once more.

"If I have to choose-"

"You do," Quinn interrupts. "I think I've picked a favorite, but I need a second opinion."

Rachel nods. "Definitely not the dark ones, so we're down to eight," she narrates with her free hand, slicing away the four dark colors with a quick vertical swipe. Quinn gives no indication as to whether or not she agrees, so Rachel continues. "As for the others, neither pink- too girly for you. Down to six. No baby blue. The very pale blue is nice, but I don't think it goes. That's four. I do like the neutral tones, Quinn, but I think that neither the gray nor the tan matches your personality or the rest of your bedroom decor, so those are out. And the last two," Rachel pauses to take a breath, and Quinn waits patiently, sipping her smoothie and maintaining her poker face.

"I like this one," Rachel declares, pointing her finger at the pale mint green on the wall and dismissing the light yellow.

Quinn smiles. "Me too."

"Really?" Rachel looks so proud that Quinn is immediately taken back to Sectionals and Rachel's face after she sang 'Don't Rain On My Parade.'

"Yeah," Quinn says softly, smiling at Rachel. "Hey Rach."

Rachel practically glows at the nickname. "Yeah?"

Quinn takes a Polaroid camera out of a drawer in her desk and holds it protectively. "Can I take a picture of you?"

Rachel's eyes widen, her hands instantly flying to her hair to smooth it down. Now this, this is new. If she'd known she was going to have her picture taken, she would have prepared more. "Quinn, I wish you had told me before so I could have made myself more presentable. I always strive to make myself presentable in case I should meet someone vital to my future, but when I know I'm going to be on camera, I make an extra effort to-"

"Rachel?" Quinn's voice is as gentle as the smile on her face as she looks at Rachel patiently. "You look great."

"But Quinn-"

Quinn grasps Rachel's upper arms and maneuvers her until she's standing with her back to the swatch wall. Rachel fidgets, toying with her hair and her shirt and looking altogether uncomfortable until Quinn sighs and puts the camera back on her desk.

"I have a board," Quinn says, resting a hand on Rachel's elbow and directing her attention to a ribbon board resting on the pile in the middle of the room. "I always kept pictures of the Cheerios and the Christ Crusaders and my parents on there, but I want to start it over now."

Rachel looks at the board. It's fairly large and almost empty with only a few pictures tucked under the straps. Rachel sees a picture of Brittany and Santana in their Cheerios uniforms, smiling with their arms around each other on what looks like the Cheerios' bus. There's another of Santana with Quinn. Santana looks almost as possessive of Quinn as she usually does with Brittany. Her arm wraps completely around Quinn's waist, hand resting on the blonde's hip as she presses a kiss to Quinn's cheek. Quinn is laughing, head thrown back and eyes closed, and Rachel regards it warmly, unsure which is more startling- the joy on Quinn's face or the joy on Santana's. The last is of a girl Rachel hasn't seen in years, but recognizes from elementary school as Quinn's sister. All three of the pictures are of important people in Quinn's life, and Rachel bites her lip at the realization. She turns to Quinn.

"You want me on there with them?"

Quinn chuckles quietly, the noise sounding more like a gust of air than anything else. She drops her eyes from Rachel's and concentrates on the space beneath Rachel's cheekbones before looking away. She lets the hand on Rachel's elbow slide down the brunette's forearm to clasp her hand. Quinn looks down at it, feeling the soft skin in hers. She squeezes Rachel's palm and looks up to find the girl watching her with confused eyes. Rachel's eyes search Quinn's, glancing back and forth between them before her lips part for words that never come. Quinn squeezes her hand once more and lets go. She feels Rachel's fingers slide through hers like sand before she drops her hand to her side.

"Yeah," is all she can say. It's not enough for Rachel, naturally. The brunette looks equally ready to throw her arms around Quinn and squeal as she does to scour Quinn's room for hidden cameras. Quinn watches, weighing the options in her mind before she takes a leap of faith and pulls Rachel into her arms. "You're my friend, you know. Of course I want you on there."

She knows she's made the right decision when she feels Rachel giggle nervously and tuck her head into the space below Quinn's chin. She squeezes Rachel gently, pressing her cheek into Rachel's head and giving the brunette just enough time to squeeze back before she pulls away and guides her back to her spot in front of the swatch wall. Quinn grabs the camera again and tries to think of something to replace the curious-looking expression Rachel is sporting with a genuine smile.

"I'm going to tell you a joke," Quinn says. She moves her finger over the shutter button but doesn't raise it up to her face.

Rachel crosses her arms indignantly. "I can smile for a picture, Quinn. Whenever you're ready." She tosses her hair one last time and watches Quinn with mock-impatience.

"What do you get when you drop a piano down a mine shaft?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "What, Quinn?"

"A flat minor."

The spark of a smirk on Rachel's face catches flame. Her face lights up in laughter and Quinn clicks the button, allowing a smile of her own to cross her face as the picture is expelled from the front of the camera. Rachel's laughs turn to giggles and she joins Quinn as the blonde sets the picture down on her desk to let it develop.

"Funny, Quinn," Rachel says with an easy smile. "Who knew?"

Quinn smiles back at her, and their eyes meet, holding steady. Rachel is looking up at her with that same curious expression, like she's searching for something. Quinn wants to ask her what it means, but she can't seem to find the words. The blonde clears her throat and turns her head back to watch the picture develop. She takes a breath and lets loose the question that has been tearing at her throat since Rachel walked through her door.

"How was your date with Finn?"

Rachel lets out a breath, catching herself before she sputters as she grasps either for air or something to say. She's not sure which. She had sensed a tension building in the heavy way Quinn watched her, and while she doesn't know what she'd been expecting, it had been anything but this. What is she supposed to say to that? Rachel sees it, the slight flicker in Quinn's eyes before the blonde looks away that lets her know that Quinn is somehow even more uncomfortable with the question than she is.

"It was good, I guess. I don't know," Rachel says slowly, softly, as she watches Quinn's face carefully. She doesn't want to hurt the blonde, to damage the fragile bond they've built, but she doesn't know how not to. What does Quinn want her to say? She bites her lip and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Quinn, I- are you okay with..." Rachel trails off, mouth parted slightly as she shakes her head, unable to continue.

Quinn closes her eyes, quirking the corner of her mouth and turning her head away from Rachel. No, she's not. It's weird, knowing Rachel is dating Finn. She likes the little bubble she and Rachel have created in the short time they've been out of school so far. Rachel is fun and honest and charismatic in a way Quinn never knew about her, and Quinn can't lose her like she lost everything else. But Rachel seems happy enough with Finn, and after all Quinn's done, what gives her the right to interfere? Quinn's back, slumped as she leans over the desk, arches and straightens as she stands. She opens her eyes and looks at Rachel, forcing a smile onto her face. "Yeah," she says. "It's okay. I think he's good for you." Quinn laughs a little, raising a hand to Rachel's back and rubbing softly. Rachel lets her forehead relax, nodding her head as she leans her body into Quinn.

"Look," Quinn says, shaking Finn from her mind. She squeezes Rachel's shoulder before letting her hand drop down to Rachel's waist. "It's almost done."

Rachel watches her face appear in the little white frame on Quinn's desk. She leans her hip into Quinn's and slips her arm around Quinn's waist as well as the colors sharpen to show her face dipping in front of the pale mint green square on the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel rings the doorbell and bounces on the balls of her feet. She grabs the strap of her tote bag and readjusts it on her shoulder. The door opens, and Mercedes stands in the doorway wearing hooded leopard print footie pajamas. The hood has ears. Rachel giggles.

"Hi, Mercedes," she says, stepping into the house and allowing Mercedes to shut the door behind her. "You look adorable."

Mercedes smiles and begins walking down the hallway. "Thanks, Rachel. The others are downstairs in the basement."

Rachel nods, trailing after her. She's never been to Mercedes' house before, so she takes it in. It's nice, and she can see why Quinn likes it here so much. When they get to the bottom of the stairs, Mercedes stops short and whips around so fast, Rachel almost crashes into her. Mercedes lifts a finger and points it at Rachel's nose. Rachel gulps, eyes nearly crossing with the attempt of focusing on it.

"Rules," the girl says sternly. Rachel's eyes widen. She looks at Mercedes weakly as she wonders if there's still time to run home. Just as the escape route solidifies in her mind, Mercedes' face cracks into a smile. "Pajamas must be worn at all times. None of this," she sweeps the finger up and down Rachel's body, wrinkling her nose, "school clothes business. You are at a slumber party." Mercedes looks back up and Rachel and grins. "That's it. You should have seen your face."

Rachel ducks her head and smiles at Mercedes. Part of her wants to take offense, but a bigger part of her knows that Mercedes is just teasing her, and it's good-natured teasing at that. Mercedes starts down the stairs again, and Rachel follows, setting down her overnight bag and sleeping bag on the floor next to a pristine monogrammed Louis Vuitton suitcase that just has to be Kurt's. Sure enough, the door on the far wall of the basement opens, and out walks Kurt. Rachel has to pull both of her lips into her mouth and to bite down her laughter as the boy flips off the bathroom light and carries his folded clothes to his suitcase.

"Hello, Rachel," he says calmly as he tucks his clothes away. Rachel bites her lips harder and manages a wave. Kurt stands and regards her coolly before brushing his bangs out of his face. "Laugh all you want, it's extremely comfortable."

With his permission, Rachel barks out a laugh, and Kurt manages a smile before he resumes his cool expression. His pajamas match the pair Mercedes is wearing. Instead of a leopard print, Kurt is sporting a white tiger stripe that looks approximately four sizes too big. The baggy legs bunch at his ankles, the stomach sags to mid-thigh, and the hood, complete with little white tiger ears, slips down over his forehead.

"Oh, Kurt," Rachel giggles, smoothing a hand down his striped arm. "You look even more adorable."

"Come on, Rachel," Mercedes says. "Pajama time."

Rachel digs her pajamas out of her bag and hurries into the bathroom to change. As she pulls on her pajamas, light blue plaid shorts and a blue tank top, she hopes that Quinn doesn't have lion print footie pajamas, because although that might be the most adorable of the three, Rachel would feel a little awkward being the only one left out. Again.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Quinn is sitting on the couch next to Kurt and Mercedes. She smiles warmly at Rachel. Rachel immediately grins back, unable to keep the smile off of her face and thanking her lucky gold stars that Quinn is also in pajama shorts and a t-shirt. Quinn is patting the small space on the couch next to her, and by the time everyone has scrunched over enough for Rachel to sit down, Kurt has already turned on the TV. It's a tight fit with four people, but it's nice, Rachel thinks, to be this close to her friends.

Kurt has flipped to the On Demand menu and is quietly bickering with Mercedes over which movie to watch. Quinn nudges Rachel's shoulder with her own.

"We should have had matching pajamas," Quinn says lightly.

"I thought you were going to come out in a lion pair," Rachel responds. Quinn giggles.

"What does that leave you with, a panther? So not your style, Berry."

Rachel chuckles and nudges Quinn back when Quinn's hand catches her attention. She slips her palm under Quinn's to turn the blonde's fingers toward her.

"Blue nail polish? So not your style, Fabray."

Quinn leans into Mercedes and flips Rachel's hand over, studying the brunette's nails. "They match your pajamas. Maybe you should try it."

"Try what?" Mercedes turns slowly away from Kurt without dislodging Quinn's head from her shoulder. She smiles briefly down at the top of the blonde's head before looking at Rachel.

"My nail polish," Quinn says, holding her hand next to Rachel's shoulder and fanning her fingers out in the air. "It matches her outfit."

At that, Kurt is leaning across both Mercedes and Quinn to examine the shade of Quinn's nails against the fabric of Rachel's shirt. His eyebrows nearly shoot up to his hairline and he jolts off of the couch. Dusting off his tiger suit, he grabs Quinn's hand and pulls her off the couch. He disappears up the stairs with Quinn's wrist clutched in his hand. The blonde stumbles up the stairs after him.

"Why did Kurt just kidnap Quinn? Should we go help her?" Rachel turns to look at Mercedes.

Mercedes drops her chin and lifts an eyebrow, and Rachel lets out a puff of air, sinking back into the corner of the couch feeling inexplicably guilty. Mercedes' face softens, and she scoots closer to place her hand on Rachel's arm. "Look, Rachel. I know you're not used to the whole slumber party thing, but Kurt probably just wants to match everyone to a shade of nail polish for the night. Normal sleepover stuff," Mercedes is smiling gently, and Rachel smiles through her embarrassment, even though she can't imagine that that is 'normal sleepover stuff'. "And since we can pretty much assume he didn't drag Quinn away to make out somewhere, I think they'll be back pretty soon."

Rachel laughs, the tension completely leaving her shoulders. They're not playing a trick on her this time. It seems like Mercedes really wants her there, despite her inexperience with social situations like these. It's nice to be able to hang out with her teammates without the pressure to perform or impress anyone. She slouches down into the cushions and lolls her head to the side to look at Mercedes warmly. "Thank you for inviting me, Mercedes. I'm really having a lovely time."

Mercedes smiles back, her face lighting up as she leans into the cushions as well. "I'm glad you came. Sisters gotta stick together, right?"

"Sisters," Rachel echoes softly, trying the word out on her tongue.

"Yeah," Mercedes nods. "You, me, and Quinn, and the other girls," she giggles when Rachel beams at her. "And Kurt."

Rachel laughs so hard the sound almost drowns out Kurt's return as he thunders down the stairs with Quinn at his heels. He's clutching two boxes in his hands, and he skids to a halt in front of the couch before dropping to sit on the floor. He pulls Rachel and Mercedes off of the couch to sit on the floor next to him, and Quinn drops in to complete the circle.

"Movie postponed until later," Kurt says airily, waving his hand dismissively as he rips the lids from the boxes. "As it should be. Nails first." He digs through the boxes rabidly, and Mercedes raises her an eyebrow at Rachel, mouthing a clear _'told you._'

Rachel bites her lip to keep from laughing at the boy as she watches Quinn pluck two bottles of polish out of the second box. She pulls one of Rachel's hands into her lap and twists the top off of the clear polish.

"Wait," Kurt says, butting his head in. He picks up the blue Quinn selected from the box and holds it up first to Rachel's shirt, and then to Quinn's hand. "Good," he nods approvingly, passing the color back to Quinn before settling on a golden yellow for Mercedes and her leopard pajamas.

He's already bent eagerly over Mercedes' fingers when Quinn turns back to Rachel. The girls share knowing smiles before Quinn picks Rachel's hand up again. She looks up at Rachel through her eyelashes, and Rachel watches her carefully. "May I?" Quinn asks, a smirk dancing on her lips.

Rachel nods absently, but Quinn is already coating her nails with a clear base coat. Rachel watches as Quinn rubs the tiny brush in strokes over her nails. The blonde holds Rachel's hand softly, letting it rest on her palm. Her hand shifts around Rachel's each time she changes fingers, and Rachel lets the blonde's movements trace patterns on her palm. The blue is unlike any color Rachel has tried since the early years of elementary school when her daddy would take her to the nail salon and let her pick any color she wanted. She always chose the wildest colors. Once she even came home with a different bright neon coat on each nail. Her dad had taken a picture. It's still on the mantelpiece.

When Quinn finishes with one hand, Rachel picks it up and studies her nails. Quinn has done an excellent job, and Rachel briefly wonders how much time she spends doing other people's nails.

"Top coat," Quinn says, snatching the hand back and running the clear polish over the nails once more.

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel says just as Mercedes leans away from Kurt to blow on her nails.

"Looking good," Mercedes says, grinning at Kurt. Kurt flicks his eyes up and sweeps his bangs to the side before wiggling his fingers in front of hers. The two friends share a laugh before turning to Rachel and Quinn. Kurt takes Rachel's hand and his eyebrows rise. He looks up at Quinn and smiles.

"Well, look at you, blondie. Not bad."

Quinn just smiles at him and hops back up to the couch. Once the others are settled, Quinn grabs the throw blankets from the back of the couch and tosses one to Kurt before settling the other over her lap and Rachel's. Mercedes starts the movie.

"Thanks Quinn," Rachel whispers again once the opening credits start rolling. Quinn turns her head to Rachel and watches as the light from the television flickers over Rachel's face. Quinn smiles back at her.

"You're welcome, Rach."

Rachel watches Quinn's face for a moment, vaguely aware that she should be watching the screen instead. Quinn leans her head back into the cushions on the back of the couch. Rachel lips part as Quinn's hands come toward her. The blonde fixes the blanket over Rachel's lap, and before Rachel can protest and try to do it herself, she realizes that her nails are still wet. She lets out a shaky breath, her brain feeling heady until Quinn shifts back to turn to the screen instead. When Quinn settles, her knee brushing Rachel's, she casts the brunette one last smile before resting her head on Mercedes' shoulder. Rachel tucks her hair behind her ear, letting out a heavy breath when she hears Mercedes murmur a soft "Hey girl," as Quinn sets her head down. She looks at the three of them briefly, her family, before she turns back to watch the movie.

-/-

When Rachel wakes up, she's starving. She feels like she hasn't eaten in a week. The light is peeking through the mostly obscured windows in Mercedes' basement, and when Rachel blinks the sleep from her eyes, she sees Kurt sitting delicately on his sleeping bag filing his nails.

"Good morning," she murmurs, pushing her sleeping bag away to sit up as well.

"Good morning," he whispers back at her.

Quinn rolls over, blearily swiping at her eyes as she yawns. "Hey tiger," she mumbles. She groans and hides her face when she rolls into a patch of sun, and Rachel is momentarily hypnotized by the way the light plays off of Quinn's hair.

Kurt ruffles indignantly.

"I'm hungry," Rachel says. Quinn makes a noise from beneath her pillow and taps the floor twice, which Rachel takes to mean 'me too.'

Once Mercedes has woken up, the four troop upstairs to the kitchen. The doorbell rings, and Mercedes goes to answer it while the others plop down at the kitchen table. Quinn rests her head on her arms and shuts her eyes again.

"I come bearing breakfast," a voice says. Quinn's head whips off of the table and she whirls around to see Puck standing in the doorway, plastic bags hanging from his hands.

"Hi Noah," Rachel says calmly, watching as Puck sets the bags down on the counter.

"Ladies," he grins. Quinn rolls her eyes. "I wanted to check up on all my girlfriends." He rounds the table to throw his arm across the back of Quinn's chair. He winks at Kurt. "Sup Kurt? Nice jammies."

Kurt makes a noise of frustration and stands, storming out of the kitchen and disappearing down the basement stairs.

"I bought waffles," Puck continues after watching Kurt go, the amusement still playing on his face. "And bacon for you, baby mama." He stoops down to place a kiss on Quinn's cheek, completely missing her wince at the nickname. Rachel averts her eyes in sympathy, wondering why Puck still calls her that if it makes her so upset.

"Bacon?" Quinn asks him as he pulls away. He cocks his head at her.

"Thanks for breakfast, Puck," Mercedes says. She grabs the bag and pops a couple of the waffles in the toaster before getting out a pan to start on the bacon.

Puck nods at Mercedes before turning back to Quinn. He slides into the seat Kurt had vacated and drums his fingers on the table.

"You're always craving bacon. I delivered the goods," Puck says proudly. He turns his head to Rachel and nudges her arm playfully. "The waffles are vegan, Berry. Couldn't do much about the bacon."

Rachel manages a chuckle, but she's distracted by Quinn's unease. She feels it permeating the room, and despite his sensitivity toward Quinn's cravings, Rachel can't figure out why Puck doesn't realize he's making her uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Puck," Rachel says slowly. Mercedes puts a stack of plates and placemats on the table, and Rachel distributes them dutifully. "That was very thoughtful of you."

Puck winks at her and turns back to Quinn. She's resumed her sleepy slouch, and Puck smoothes a hand over her back. "Hey. You okay?"

Rachel sighs approvingly just as the toaster buzzes. She moves over to the counter to take care of the waffles.

"I'm fine," Quinn says quietly. "Thanks. For the bacon, I mean. But it was a pregnancy craving. I haven't been able to look at bacon since..." she trails off. Puck sits back in his chair and sighs, feeling something akin to failure settling into his chest.

"Sorry, I-"

"No," Quinn quiets him, placing a hand on his arm. "You didn't know. It's sweet. Thank you."

Puck lifts a corner of his mouth into a smile and nods. "You still like waffles, right?"

Quinn giggles and shakes her head affectionately. "I love waffles."

By the time breakfast is ready, Kurt has reemerged from the basement, freshly coiffed in his day clothes. He perches on a chair just as Mercedes places the last plate on the table and slides into the chair next to his. Between the waffles, the bacon, and the fresh fruit Mercedes had in her refrigerator, there is a small buffet set up on the kitchen table. After placing a waffle and some fruit on her plate, Quinn excuses herself to the bathroom and leaves the table.

"Thanks for keeping Quinn company," Puck whispers to the other three at the table. He smiles warmly at Mercedes and then turns to Rachel. "Especially you. She's been kind of depressed since she had the baby, but now she seems happy."

Rachel pauses her fork on its way to her mouth as she feels a rush of warmth and pride flow through her. Her mind flashes back to yesterday, when she'd stood in the blonde's room and looked at her nearly empty board of pictures, when she'd posed for a new addition to the picture board and let Quinn tell her corny jokes to make her smile. The feeling can't quite mask the instinct lurking in the back of her mind like a shadow, that Quinn is still torturing herself over her baby, and Rachel makes it a point in her mind to ask Quinn if she'd like to talk about it.

She smiles at Puck. "It's my pleasure, Noah," she says quietly. Looking around the table, Rachel is surprised to find Mercedes and Kurt smiling gently at her. "Despite our past history, Quinn has really proven to be a wonderful friend. It hasn't been that long since she gave birth though, Noah. It's only been a few weeks. I'm sure it's quite normal if she hasn't moved on quite yet."

Puck dips his head down and takes a breath. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and clears his throat nervously. "Yeah, Berry- Rachel. About that," he looks up at her and pauses, breathing audibly before he continues. "Do you think that your mom would let us see Beth- the baby, I mean, at some point, maybe, if we wanted to?"

The warmth that felt as if it pervaded every bone in Rachel's body freezes over as her breath catches in her throat. Rachel thinks she's choking until she remembers that she wasn't eating anything, and she coughs until she can breathe. The feeling doesn't last long, and Rachel thinks desperately how cruel it is that in a kitchen so large she can't seem to find any air. Kurt knocks his drink over as he lunges forward to thump Rachel's back. He keeps at it, slowing to rub soft circles on her back when Rachel finally catches her breath. He looks at Mercedes in disbelief. The girl only shrugs her shoulders, eyes wide.

Rachel pants softly, speechless, as tears stream unbidden down her cheeks. She stares at a spot on Puck's shoulder, eyes locking on as she tries to remember the breathing exercises she does every morning. She can't seem to recall. It hurts. Everything hurts.

Kurt peeks around her shoulder, trying to see her face. He swallows quietly. "Rachel?"

Rachel shakes her head, the movement so small Kurt almost misses it. Puck looks near tears himself, mouth parted and eyes awash with confusion and regret. Rachel finally moves.

"You... gave Beth," she cracks, her tongue twisting over the name, "to my mom."

Puck lets out a gust of air and blinks harshly. "Yeah," he pushes out. Rachel crumples into a sob, and he shakes his head, helpless. "I thought you... knew," he finishes lamely. Mercedes moves closer and squeezes Rachel's shoulder while Kurt keeps rubbing her back. Rachel inhales sharply. The air that skitters through her sounds staggered and pained, and her sobs start anew.

"Hey guys, sorry I-" Quinn bounds back into the room and stops, jaw dropping as her momentum sends her bumping into the breakfast table. "Oh my god, Rachel."

She tries to cross the kitchen, but Puck moves for the first time and puts his arm in front of her. "Don't," he murmurs, but she throws his arm away.

"What happened?" Quinn cries.

Rachel's head whips up and the force of her glare sends Quinn staggering back. The brunette is crying too hard to speak, but the look on her face is of utter despair and betrayal and Quinn knows, instantly knows, what happened. When they lock eyes it's unlike anything she's ever felt, but it's like she's in a train wreck, unable to move or look away.

"Is it true?" Rachel grates out, her chest heaving and shaking with the force of her sobs, and it sounds like anything but a question.

Quinn's mind flashes back to months before, flipping through her memories like cards until she finds it. She sees Finn looking at her with tears pouring down his cheeks and that same expression on his face, the same three words tearing from his mouth. For some reason it's exponentially worse with Rachel, who's held everything in for so long she can't stop the dam as it breaks. Quinn's breath slows to shallow puffs as she stares into Rachel's eyes, wracking her brain for something, anything to say that will fix this. She knows there's nothing she can say, and when she closes her eyes in defeat she's thankful that at least she can't see the newest sob as it spills from Rachel's lips. She hears a chair scrape across the floor, and what feels like ages later, when she opens her eyes again, all Quinn sees is Rachel with her purse as she flies out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Rachel taps at the paint on her glass, eyes unfocused as she traces the edges of the gold star. It had worked when she was younger, having a glass of water when she was upset. It would always calm her tears, give her something else to think about and focus on. After she cried, the water always felt soothing going down her throat, worn raw from her tears. Now it stood for something else. No matter what Shelby said about them not having any rituals they could share, once Rachel told her about the glass of water, once Shelby had given Rachel a new glass to drink from, the tradition became Shelby's. Now every time Rachel gets herself a sad glass of water, she and Shelby are linked by glasses and gold stars and a relationship they'd never have.

That's something Shelby will have with _Beth_. When Beth needs her mom, she'll be right there with hugs and kisses and Beth's version of a glass of water. She'll be there for Beth's first scrape, her first period, her first broken heart. Shelby will be just as present in Beth's life as she is absent in Rachel's, and Beth didn't even have to try.

Rachel drains her water and leans back against her pillows. She rolls over and pulls her legs in, curling into herself. Rotating the glass slowly in her hands, she closes her eyes. Why didn't Quinn tell her? Ask her? Say anything? She realizes of course that Quinn didn't need to ask her permission. Beth was Quinn's baby, and Rachel certainly had no say in who she went to. But that night in the hospital Rachel really thought that she and Quinn shared something special and through it came to a sort of understanding. It was the first time Quinn really let Rachel see who she was under her Cheerios mask, one she wore long after leaving the squad, without pushing her away. It was the first time Rachel's attempts at friendship hadn't been rebuked, but had been cautiously accepted, trusted, and met with an equally fragile offer. And every day since then Quinn had convinced Rachel that she'd finally found it, that person, that first real friend most people find in elementary school. It felt special, and it felt real, and Rachel had been convinced that Quinn felt the same way. Rachel had clung to it, brave and frightened and excited, and Quinn had lied to her the whole time.

Tears slip through Rachel's closed lids, and she wonders why Quinn would keep something so important from her. Why didn't Quinn tell her? Isn't that what friends do- tell each other things, trust each other with secrets, passing them back and forth like little treasures and treating them as such. But she found out from Puck- _Puck_, who had been nervous about his question but not Rachel's reaction, because he thought she knew, thought that after spending so much time with Quinn, that Quinn would have told her, because that's what friends do.

She bites down on the sob bubbling up her throat just as she hears a quiet knock on her door. Rachel forces herself to relax her eyes and slow her breathing, thankful that her back is already facing the door.

"Rachel?" she hears her dad murmur softly as the door creaks open.

It's quiet for a moment, and when she hears his footsteps retreating down the stairs, she blinks her eyes open. The first thing she notices is how dark it is outside and in her room and she realizes that she's lain in bed all day. She can't bring herself to care. The footsteps sound on the stairs again, and Rachel closes her eyes. Her dad tiptoes into the room and carefully drapes a blanket over her. He pulls the stray hair away from her neck and presses a kiss to her head.

"Sweet dreams, sweetheart," she hears him murmur before her door clicks shut once more.

Rachel lets out a shaky breath, her chest trembling with the exertion of holding it in. A few tears slip from between closed eyelids, and Rachel clutches the glass to her stomach. She loves her fathers. She really, really does. Her whole life, her fathers have loved her and wanted her to be happy, and she is, she was, she is, she doesn't know. This is one of the most important things to happen to her, and she can't even talk to them about it, because they don't know. They don't know, and she can't tell them.

Rachel cries, brushing her cheeks with her free hand sniffling quietly until she falls asleep.

-/-

Waking up is harder than going to sleep. It's funny to her, that the first thing she thinks is that she has to check her phone. Ever since the summer began, it's like the glee club figured out that Rachel has a cell phone. She wakes up to text messages from Finn and Quinn and sometimes even Mercedes and Tina and Puck. Once or twice Artie had texted her a joke he found amusing. It hasn't been every morning, just often enough that she checks, every morning, and she's usually rewarded with a smile.

Rachel reaches over, eyes still shut with sleep and finds her phone on her nightstand. Then she remembers. It doesn't hurt as much as it did yesterday. The pain is still there, but it's not as raw, as cutting as it felt before. Now it's settled into a kind of ache. Never one to put off the inevitable, Rachel scoops her phone off of the nightstand with trembling fingers. Three missed calls. One new text message. Record.

Two of the calls are from Quinn; the third is from Finn. The text message is from Puck. Rachel sighs. She pinches the bridge of her nose and immediately makes a list of why she should and shouldn't call each one of them back. She hovers her finger over the button before she presses it. Puck's message pops up, and Rachel's eyes prick with tears.

_I'm sorry Rachel._

Rachel takes a deep breath, drops her phone on the bed, and gets on the elliptical.

Her shower is four times as long as it usually is. She runs through every scale, every vocal warm-up she knows. It leaves her feeling refreshed as she gets dressed and walks past her phone to head toward the kitchen.

Rachel slices a banana and spoons a dollop of organic peanut butter onto each piece. The kitchen is quiet this morning, as it's a weekday and her dads are already at work. The doorbell rings and cuts through Rachel's bubble of calm. She closes her eyes. Unless one of her dads forgot his keys on the way to work or the mailman switched his route to the mornings...

She walks slowly, silently to the front door and looks through the peephole. Rachel bites her lip, debating, before she opens the door a crack.

"Hi."

"Hey."

Mercedes' voice is low, soothing, and Rachel manages a tight smile before she drops her head.

"I'm sorry I ran out on you yesterday," Rachel says quietly, knowing that as upset as she was, it was still rude. As theraputic as doing her vocals was this morning, her voice seems to fail her now, coming out only in a soft rasp. "Thank you for inviting me. I had a marvelous time. Mostly."

"Oh, please," Mercedes says, a smile breaking onto her face. "I brought you this. You left it at my house."

The girl is holding Rachel's tote bag and suitcase, neatly rolled up. Rachel takes it from her and thanks her, but Mercedes doesn't turn to leave.

"Can I come in?"

Rachel looks back up and trips over her words. She _really_ doesn't want to talk about this right now. "Oh. Well, I was um, I'm making breakfast."

Mercedes raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I like breakfast."

One look at her face, and Rachel decides that it's better to give in than to argue. She nods her head, backing away from the door and allowing Mercedes to enter.

"You've probably seen this already, because you're kind of Broadway crazy," Mercedes says once they've both eaten in silence. They move into the living room, sitting silently on the couch, and Mercedes digs into her purse and pulls out a DVD case. The statement is similar to many she's heard from Mercedes before, but this time it comes with a warm smile. "Do you want to watch it?

"Dreamgirls," Rachel says appreciatively, feeling her chest unclench and the tension melt from her shoulders. She turns the movie over in her hands, allowing the music to run through her head. "Of course I do."

-/-

When Mercedes leaves, Rachel shuts the door and leans her forehead against it. She trudges up the stairs and stares at her phone, the names Finn, Quinn, and Puck flashing through her head against her will. Their past history and web of complication spring into her head even as she shuts her eyes against it. She picks up the phone.

-/-

Finn is easy, Rachel thinks as they walk down the sidewalk. He's simple, he's uncomplicated, and despite everything he put her through in the last year, he's become devoted to making her smile. This is precisely what she needs, something away from all the drama that Quinn and Puck carry with them like a dust cloud everywhere they go. Tonight isn't about that, though. Tonight is about Finn. Rachel squares her shoulders, forcing the tension and haunting thoughts of Quinn, Beth, and Shelby out of her mind as she swings Finn's hand back and forth. He immediately turns his head and smiles down at her. Tonight, she tells herself again, is about Finn. She won't let anything else ruin her date. She squeezes his hand and smiles back at him, and his grin spreads.

"I'm really glad we're going out again," Finn says. He squeezes Rachel's hand.

"Me too, Finn. I was thrilled when you told me you wanted to see this show. _Cats_ is a pivotal piece of the history of musical theatre. Prior to _Phantom of the Opera_, _Cats_ was the longest-running show in Broadway history. I wasn't able to see it before it closed, but I hear the national touring company is fantastic."

Finn nods his head as Rachel gushes about the show. He's glad she's so thrilled about it. He had just seen the poster and the promotional pictures outside the theatre while he was on his way to the gym this morning, and he thought Rachel would like it, because it's a Broadway musical and she likes sweaters with cats on them. He went in and bought two tickets for tonight's show, simple as that. Rachel seems to think he's some sort of boyfriend God. He's kind of okay with that.

"You're always talking about how I don't know enough about Broadway and stuff, so I thought we could do this together," Finn says, shrugging.

Rachel beams. As they walk up the steps to the theatre, Rachel lets go of his hand to wrap her arm around his waist. Finn settles his arm across her shoulders and kisses the top of her head, and Rachel squeezes in closer. "Thank you, Finn. This is extremely thoughtful of you. I'm so excited. You'll love it."

As it turns out, he doesn't. This is the weirdest thing he's ever seen. He knew that all of the people would be dressed up as cats, but he didn't think it would be so... weird. All of the character's names are strange and long, and they're just singing and dancing and doing nothing on stage. Rachel made him watch _Grease_ a while ago, and he liked it. The names were simple, the songs were catchy, the cars were awesome, and the story was kind of cool. This is just, well, weird. But Rachel hasn't blinked in about half an hour, so he guesses she likes it.

The applause at intermission startles Finn, and he sits up in his chair and looks around. Crap. Rachel, who is applauding fiercely, doesn't seem to have noticed his nap, so Finn claps until the house lights come on.

Rachel turns to Finn, a smile lighting up her whole face, and she looks so pretty he leans in and kisses her. Rachel ducks her head and blushes when he pulls away, and suddenly she can't remember her comments on the show. Kissing Finn is still something she has to get used to. She stands up to stretch her legs and Finn joins her, towering over her as he reaches his arms straight up.

"That was great, Rach," Finn lies, but the smile he gets is worth it. "Ready to go?"

Rachel's smile instantly turns into a frown, and Finn tenses, trying to figure out what he did.

"What?"

Finn stammers for a minute before recovering. "Do you want to go now?"

Rachel's frown deepens. "It's not over yet, Finn."

Nodding slowly, Finn puts on what he hopes is a convincing smile. "Oh. Okay. I thought it was." He sits down again and flips through his playbill. "I'm glad there's more."

Rachel smooths her skirt under her as she perches on her seat. "Do you not like it?"

"No, it's great!" Finn is quick to reassure her, placing a hand on her arm. "I think it's really, uh, interesting. All the cats and stuff."

Rachel presses her lips together and nods, sinking against the back of her chair. She flicks her eyes around the orchestra seats before looking back to Finn. She curls her hair behind her ears and speaks cautiously. "Couldn't you tell there was more from the context of the story, Finn?"

Finn's eyes widen as he nods. "Yeah, well I thought so, but I wasn't sure," he chuckles nervously. "I guess I got caught up in all the singing."

Rachel nods. While she appreciates his effort to cover up his dislike of the show, she is more than a little disappointed at his reaction. She should have known he wouldn't like it. Musical theatre is not for everyone, and _Cats_ is certainly not for everyone, but when he told her he bought the tickets, a small part of her hoped he would love it.

Finn continues scanning his playbill, and Rachel looks around the seats again. She stiffens, tension snapping its way down her spine until she's rigid, breathing shallowly. The calm that had settled over her since Finn took her hand earlier in the evening is gone. She sees the hair first, two blonde heads dipped close together, shoulders almost touching. Rachel knows it's Quinn even though all she can see is the back of her head and a sliver of her shoulders above the seat. The blonde and her mom are a couple rows in front of Rachel and Finn and a few seats over, pouring eagerly over their playbills and giggling quietly. The sound still makes its way to Rachel's ears, and the brunette bites her lip against the tears pricking her eyes.

Her evening has been so lovely. Despite Finn's obvious hesitations about the show, he is trying so hard to make her happy, and Rachel really appreciates it. But this... she hadn't planned on avoiding Quinn for too long. She knows she has to talk to her eventually, but she hadn't expected to see her so soon, not when the hurt is this fresh. Quinn's mom shoves the playbill into Quinn's lap and nudges her daughter's shoulder with her own. Quinn laughs louder than before and leans her head against her mother's. Judy kisses the top of Quinn's head, and the lights go down just in time to hide the tears that escape Rachel's eyes.

Rachel wipes her tears away, knowing that it's not Quinn's fault she has a mother to see shows with when Rachel doesn't. It's also not Quinn's fault that she had to give her baby away. She just should have told Rachel.

The brunette closes her eyes and shakes her head briefly, trying to clear her thoughts. She focuses on the show, the tickets Finn bought her, good things. Ready, Rachel opens her eyes again and watches the stage. She's almost as twitchy as Finn is, and when Rachel casts a glance at him, she sees him forcing his eyes to remain open. She sighs quietly before peeking at Quinn. She and her mom are facing the stage with rapt attention, clapping as soon as the entr'acte is over and the second act begins. Finn readjusts his posture in his seat, and Rachel calms herself with a deep breath, settling in for act two.

When the lights come on again, Finn watches the rest of the audience carefully. Everyone is slowly making his or her way up the aisles, and he turns to Rachel.

"Ready to go?"

Rachel smiles a small smile. "Yes, Finn."

Finn nods and laughs, placing his hand on Rachel's back as they slither out of their row. When Rachel sees Quinn and Judy walking up the aisle, she drops to a squat, pulling Finn down with her to crouch on the floor.

"Rach, what-"

"I think I dropped my keys," she lies distractedly, hoping the blonde doesn't look at their row when she walks by.

"Why'd you have your keys out?" Finn questions. "I drove."

"I don't know," Rachel murmurs, casting a glance over her shoulder when she feels enough time has passed. She's right, and the two slide into the aisle and crowd. Rachel keeps an eye out as they make their way into the lobby, sporadically catching a flash of blonde hair through the dozens of people walking out onto the sidewalk. Judy rubs Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn smiles at her as she checks her phone, her playbill clutched in her other hand. Rachel feels a heat rise from her stomach up her throat, and her breath forces its way out of her.

"Rachel, are you okay?" Finn's voice snaps Rachel out of her daze as they walk up the hill to the parking lot. "You seem kind of tense."

"I'm fine, Finn," she replies.

He nods, but doesn't look convinced as he opens the car door for her. Rachel's heart pounds in her chest as she slides into the passenger seat. Even if Finn doesn't know what the word 'chivalrous' means, he's certainly trying. He's trying so hard, and he's succeeding, for the most part. He can't help that he didn't like the show. He stayed, he tried to pay attention, and he tried not to let Rachel know he didn't like it. Since Finn got over his 'inner rock-star' phase, he's been nothing but good to her. He's honest, loyal, and devoted to her, everything Rachel has ever wanted from him.

Finn drops into the driver's seat and fumbles for his keys after he shuts the car door. The car darkens, the top of the dashboard only barely illuminated by the flickering streetlight on the corner. Rachel takes a breath and turns to Finn, stilling his hand with her own. She cups his cheek and turns his head to face hers, pressing her lips to his. He relaxes, dropping the keys to his lap and bring his hand up to hold her arm. Rachel leans back, resting her forehead against his. Finn is quiet.

"Thank you for taking me to the show," she says, surprisingly subdued. When she doesn't continue talking, Finn opens his eyes, confused.

"Sure, Rachel. Did you like it?"

"Yes, I did. Very much," she murmurs, moving her hand until she feels Finn's soft hair in the spaces between her fingers. He hums quietly.

"Good."

"I know you didn't like it," she continues. She kisses him silent when he starts to protest, and he lets her finish. "But I know you tried to pretend to like it for me. It's very gentlemanly of you, Finn. Thank you."

"I-" Finn stalls, wondering if he should deny it and say he really liked the show, but he knows that if Rachel starts questioning him about it, he'll have no idea what she's talking about. He's learned that it's better to agree with her. "You're welcome. I'm really glad you liked it."

Rachel lets out a laugh, the skin of her forehead sliding against his, and he strokes his thumb over the back of her arm. The pounding in Rachel's chest grows, and she pushes it down, rubbing her nose against Finn's.

"I had a wonderful time, Finn."

"Mm," Finn hums before touching his lips to Rachel's again. She pulls him closer, and he slips his hand from her arm to encircle her back, pulling her closer as well as he kisses her more firmly. Rachel tenses and relaxes, scratching her nails lightly over Finn's scalp and allowing her back to arch as he pulls her toward him. The center console presses against her abdomen and her leg, but when she feels Finn's tongue on her bottom lip, she forces all thoughts of Quinn and Judy and Shelby from her mind and parts her lips.


	6. Chapter 6

The room is the same, for the most part. All of the furniture has been moved back to where it was before, giving it the same look it's always had. This morning it's just a little cleaner, a little more put-together, a little more grown-up looking. The delicate two-tone wallpaper her father had picked that once defined her room is gone. The pale mint green paint that Rachel picked looks different, better, and finally, Quinn feels as if she might like waking up here. The room is the same, for the most part, but the feeling it has is different, and that's what matters.

Quinn opens her eyes, blinking in the morning light and taking a moment to admire the newly painted walls for the first time. It's amazing, she thinks, how the entire room feels different, just because the walls are. Sitting up, Quinn stretches, arching her back and flinging her arms out to the side, feeling her muscles pull before she flumps face first back into her pillows. She lies there, calmly breathing in the scent of her mom's favorite laundry detergent. It smells better now.

A thought breaks into Quinn's mind, disturbing her calm. Rachel's face plasters itself into her mind, and the boneless relaxation Quinn had felt seconds before is replaced by the aching guilt awakening in her chest. The blankets shift as she rolls over, tugging her phone off of her nightstand. It's been two days since the morning at Mercedes' house. She's called Rachel at least twice a day, left two voicemails, and sent four text messages. Taking a deep breath, she flicks her phone to life. No new messages. No missed calls. Quinn squeezes her eyes shut, regretting for the millionth time in the past two days every moment she spent with Rachel that she hadn't told her. She knew it would hurt, of course it would, but it would have been better coming from her than anyone else. It would have been better if she'd been the one to say it. Quinn has spent the better part of the last two days preparing the speech in her mind, how she would have told Rachel about Beth and Shelby. It's fruitless now, she knows, but she wishes more than anything that it had been her, so Rachel wouldn't have had to find out when Puck asked for a favor.

She presses the send button to retrieve the list of recent calls on her phone. They're all to Rachel. She hovers over the brunette's name, hesitating for a second before pressing send again. With her free hand, Quinn grips the blankets, pulling them up to her chin. She falls to her side and tucks her knees into her chest, pressing the phone closer to her ear. Rachel doesn't answer.

The clock tells her it's a little after seven in the morning, and Quinn has an ounce of hope that Rachel only missed the call because of her post-workout shower. She drops the phone and closes her eyes, rolling over further and pressing her face into her pillow. Rachel can't ignore her forever, Quinn knows that, but the longer she goes without talking to the brunette, the less likely it seems that Rachel will ever forgive her. The phone wasn't working. Nothing Quinn had done so far had worked, and although just thinking about it blew a bubble of fear into her already-aching chest, she knew that the only thing left to do was to show up at Rachel's door. The thought is terrifying, absolutely terrifying, but Quinn knows it's what she needs to do. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, then lets out a breath, grabbing her phone again.

"Rachel," she murmurs when Rachel's voicemail picks up, her voice breaking over the name. She takes a shaky breath in through her nose and presses on. "Rachel, I know that I hurt you. I _know_. We need to talk. I want to talk to you." Quinn pauses to take a breath, and the tears she was holding back spill onto her cheeks. They do nothing to alleviate the lump in her throat, but she continues with as much confidence as she can muster. "If you don't call me back today, I'm coming over. I know you don't want to see me, but this is too important- we need to talk, _please_, Rachel." Quinn stops again, panting softly as she hangs up.

Another glance around her room, and Quinn's eyes settle on the ribbon board that the painters had been nice enough to hang for her yesterday. The picture of Rachel brings a warmth to her chest that soothes some of the guilt she's feeling. The newest addition is a picture of Mercedes and Kurt in their matching pajamas from the sleepover the other night. She smiles at it, despite her mood, and allows their fierce Gaga poses, paws and all, to cheer her up. After another moment of looking at the picture, Quinn reaches for her phone again.

"Do you think Rachel will ever forgive me?" she says softly into the phone after Mercedes picks up.

She hears Mercedes take a deep breath, and she smiles, knowing that Mercedes is sparing her a lecture on calling so early in the morning.

"She'll come around, Quinn," Mercedes answers. In the time spent at Mercedes' house, the girl's voice became extremely soothing to Quinn, and Quinn finds herself instantly relaxing.

"She hasn't returned any of my calls," Quinn says, insecurity slipping into her voice.

"She forgave Finn a million times. That boy lied to her a million times, dumped her, dated other people, called her names, and she still forgave him. She forgave Puck for throwing slushies in her face and being a dick. She even dated both of them. If she did that, she can be friends with you again."

"This is different," Quinn says quietly, even though a small, rational part of her knows, thinks Mercedes is right. "They hurt her, but they didn't hurt her like this."

"I saw her yesterday, you know, while you were with your mom," Mercedes says, and Quinn rolls onto her back, readjusting the phone in her hand.

"How is she?"

"I dropped off her suitcase. We didn't talk about it. We just ate breakfast and watched _Dreamgirls_. She was way more quiet than usual, but she wasn't crying or anything."

Quinn decides that that's better than nothing and nods. "You just showed up?"

"Yeah. You messed up, but you didn't mess up too bad."

Quinn chuckles despite herself and nods, gripping the phone a little tighter. "Thanks Mercedes, see you later."

She says goodbye and heads downstairs, where she is surprised to find her mother cooking in the kitchen. Things with the two of them have been getting better. Quinn has started spending a night at home here and there, and the stays are becoming more frequent. Mercedes was skeptical at first, as was Mrs. Jones, so Quinn had brought Mercedes home one night to stay over. It had actually been Judy's idea. It felt funny to Quinn, to need someone to approve of her mother, but the sleepover had convinced Mercedes, and Judy developed a soft spot for the girl.

The past few days have been so confusing and hurtful, and Quinn feels lost, like a piece of her chest is missing. Seeing her mom in the kitchen breaks something, and even though the woman's back is to her as she fiddles with something on the counter, Quinn feels something akin to relief in her shoulders. She shuffles forward slowly, her slippers dragging on the kitchen tile, and wraps her arms around her mom's waist. Quinn leans her forehead against the base of her mom's neck and squeezes herself closer, sighing when warmth spreads into her.

"Morning, Quinnie," Judy says cheerily, rubbing a hand over Quinn's arms.

Quinn doesn't know if it's the nickname that does it or the knowledge that her mom will actually listen this time, but it's too much. She chokes out a breath as the tears spill out of her eyes.

"_Mom_," she whimpers, squeezing tighter, and Judy is dropping whatever she's holding and struggling against Quinn's grip to turn around.

Quinn lets go only for a moment, and Judy turns, pulling her daughter in close. Arms wrap around Quinn, and Quinn burrows closer into her mom, soaking up all the comfort that her father had forbidden her whole life. Judy tucks Quinn's hair behind her ear and begins cooing, twisting her shoulders back and forth in a gentle sway. Quinn trembles, gripping a fistful of her mom's shirt, and cries.

-/-

Rachel wakes up unsatisfied. It's not that she didn't sleep last night. She did. She fell asleep rather quickly, given the circumstances, but she wakes up feeling restless. She rolls over and springs out of bed, jumping up and down a few times before squeezing her eyes shut and grabbing her phone. She turns the screen on and peeks. No missed calls. Letting out a breath of relief, she turns to face her room. Restless. She does her morning stretches and changes into workout clothes, swinging herself gracefully onto her elliptical. She stays on longer than usual, enjoying the slight burn in her legs from the increased workout.

Her phone rings, blasting a song Rachel knows well. After each member sang a solo in Glee, Rachel added the song to her phone and set up corresponding ringtones for each member, except for Brittany. For Brittany, Rachel had put in her favorite Britney Spears song. But Brittany never called her, anyway.

Now, Rachel's phone is singing Quinn's ringtone. Rachel watches as she moves on the elliptical as the phone lights up on her nightstand. She stops, slowing down until the machine turns off. The phone stops ringing just as she walks around the front of the elliptical, and Rachel watches it for a moment and shakes her head. She has one foot on the bathroom floor when the phone starts ringing again. She pauses in the threshold, closing her eyes as the song plays once more.

She showers.

-/-

When Rachel comes out of the shower, she has a voicemail. She couldn't bring herself to listen to the first two. She'd saved them, but she just couldn't listen to them, couldn't listen to Quinn's voice as she said whatever it was she had to say. Rachel flips her phone around in her hand, playing the first month of the summer over in her head. The failure of Regionals, although devastating, is eclipsed by the time in the hospital with Quinn. Especially now that New Directions has another year, the performance at Regionals is not so much a black hole on her permanent record as it is a stepping stone for Glee's curriculum next year. New Directions lost at Regionals, but Rachel gained a friend.

Rachel sighs, squeezing her eyes shut even though no tears come. Maybe she's finally cried herself out. When she opens her eyes, she takes a deep breath. She hurts, but she misses Quinn.

Rachel's next thought as she listens to the message is that she was wrong, because by the time Quinn's message is over, her cheeks are wet with tears. This is it, she knows, as she puts the phone down. She's talking to Quinn today. Rachel doesn't call her back, half of her hoping that the blonde won't show, and the other half knowing that if they're going to have the conversation, it needs to be in person.

-/-

When the doorbell rings a couple hours later, Rachel leans forward in her seat and drops her head into her hands. She stands, trembling, trying to talk herself out of every step she takes toward the door. Quinn stands on the other side, her head dipped to her chest, eyes looking at Rachel forlornly. Rachel's chest tightens, forcing a whisper-soft gushing noise into her breath. Quinn's brow furrows for a second before she opens her mouth to speak.

"Rachel, I-"

"Won't you come in, Quinn?" Rachel asks pleasantly, a tired smile on her face.

Quinn watches her carefully as she steps into the house. Something about Rachel's demeanor is making her uncomfortable. She doesn't like it.

"I'm terribly sorry that I missed your calls this morning, Quinn. When you called for the first time, I was working out on the elliptical as I do every morning, and when you called the second time I was on my way into the shower."

It feels like a sucker punch when Quinn realizes what had put her on edge the second Rachel opened the door. As the brunette rambles, she smiles the smile she seems to have specially reserved for Santana the second after Santana tells her to get a vasectomy. Rachel is back in school mode. Her guard is back up, and she's treating Quinn as if the blonde just slushied her. Quinn feels her breath leave her chest.

"Rachel," she interrupts, shooting out a hand to cradle the brunette's forearm. Rachel stops short, words dying on her lips as she looks at Quinn's hand. Her eyes flick back up to Quinn's face, and Quinn sees her hiding. "Please," Quinn says. "Let me try to apologize to you."

Rachel's gaze never wavers from Quinn's own. Her lips part and close, and she shakes her head at a loss, but her eyes never leave Quinn's. Accepting it as a good sign, Quinn adjusts the hand resting on Rachel's arm. She loosens her grip and lets her thumb slide over the soft skin on the inside of the brunette's forearm. She tugs Rachel closer and lets her hand slide down to grasp Rachel's own. The brunette's breath hitches. A tear slips out of her eye, and Quinn watches it until it drops off of Rachel's chin. Rachel's eyes close, and Quinn waits, watching as Rachel takes a few shallow breaths.

"I need air," Rachel says, pulling her hand from Quinn's and hurrying through the house.

Quinn follows her, and when she gets to the back door, Rachel has already draped herself across the hammock. It's still early in the day, and Rachel's backyard is covered in shade. The dew seeps over the sides of Quinn's flip flops as she walks across the grass to the hammock. She lays down gingerly, letting her knees hang off of the side next Rachel's. Rachel is watching the sky, her eyes blinking closed every so often. Her hands rest on her stomach, fingers sliding delicately against each other.

"I know that I should have told you," Quinn begins, looking away from Rachel and up at the sky. She pauses, giving Rachel time to respond and hoping that she doesn't. Rachel stays silent. "I know, but I couldn't. I don't know why.

"She showed up at the hospital the day after Regionals. Puck and I knew we weren't keeping her, but that was it. We didn't know who would get her, or what they would be like, if they were nice, or if they could love her. Then your mom showed up, and we just-"

"Gave Beth to my mother."

Quinn bites her lip, images of a nursery, pink pajamas, and tiny fingers erupting in front of her eyes at the simple mention of her name.

"I can't explain it," Quinn says, her voice resigned. Next to her, Rachel's body is stiff, her breaths shallow and calculated. Her jaw is set, and at some point she'd moved her feet up to plant on the hammock, knees pointed to the sky. The gap between them is a few inches. Quinn feels as if she couldn't reach across it even if she tried. "She needed a mom, and Shelby just needed a daughter, and that was it. It seemed perfect."

"I'm her daughter," Rachel says, her hands hugging her chest further and further until her arms are crossed. "She doesn't want me. She came, and she found me, and the second I talked to her, she didn't want me anymore." Rachel's voice is shaking, her lips trembling so hard that her words tumble over each other, and Quinn looks over, reaching her hand out to Rachel's.

"No!" Rachel pulls her knees in tighter and holds her hands on the side farthest from Quinn. Her cheeks are mottled with tears. All Quinn can do is watch. "She thought she could find me, and it would be like she raised me, like we'd connect instantly, and everything would be perfect. She didn't want to spend the time to get to know me. She wanted something easy." Rachel turns to Quinn and glares, and Quinn thinks that if the hammock gave out and sent her crashing to the ground, she'd deserve it.

"And you just gave it to her," Rachel pauses and lets out a shuddering breath, swiping her hands across her eyes. "You marched in with your perfect baby and-"

Rachel stops and shakes her head, pressing a hand to her lips. Quinn turns back to the sky, feeling pressure building in her chest, her throat, behind her eyes. She squeezes her hands together.

"She told me she wanted a family," Rachel starts again. "That day, at Regionals, when I stayed behind and everyone went with you to the hospital. She told me she wanted a family."

At this, Rachel turns her head back to Quinn and looks at her intently. Quinn, feeling eyes on her, rolls her head to the side and forces herself to look Rachel in the eyes. Seeing the anguish on Rachel's face causes her own tears to spill over. She wants nothing more than for this to be over, to pull Rachel into a hug and get Shelby to bake Rachel a cake for Barbra Stresiand's birthday. Rachel would probably like that.

"Rachel..."

"How could she look at _me_ like that and tell _me_ she wants a family? I'm her _daughter_, Quinn. How could she?" Rachel's face crumples as her body starts to shake. Quinn bites her lip, tears still spilling out of her eyes as she watches. She rolls to her side and reaches a hand out to Rachel again. She curls Rachel's hair behind her ear. The hair is damp, and the remains of the tears soak into Quinn's fingers. Quinn scratches her nails gently over Rachel's scalp, back and forth until Rachel's sobs slow to sniffles.

"She never got over you, Rachel," Quinn murmurs. Rachel hiccups and shakes her head, but Quinn continues on. "You're right. She didn't realize that when she actually met you, she wouldn't know anything about you, but she wanted her daughter, and that's why."

Rachel looks up at Quinn and digs her cheek into the rope of the hammock. Quinn stills her hand in Rachel's hair and brings it to cup one of Rachel's hands. "I know that it's devastating to be rejected by your mother. I know what it feels like, but do you know what's worse?"

Rachel shakes her head silently, and Quinn blinks back tears.

"What's worse is having to reject your own child. It doesn't even compare," Quinn whispers. Rachel drops her eyes from Quinn's face to stare at the grass through the hammock. "She wanted a daughter. She lost you, and it almost killed her, and I knew she would never do it again."

Rachel wipes her eyes and cheeks with the hand not clasped in Quinn's, and she nods, sniffling.

"She showed up at the nursery while me and Puck were saying goodbye, and just... the look on her face. I didn't want Beth with anyone else. I know that I should have told you weeks ago, but I just- I don't know. I'm so sorry."

Quinn squeezes Rachel's hand, and Rachel looks up, searching Quinn's face. After a few seconds, Rachel nods, squeezing Quinn's hand back weakly and ducking her head to move a little closer.

"Okay," she says softly.

"O-okay?" Quinn looks at the top of Rachel's head hesitantly.

"Yeah," Rachel whispers. "Okay."

Quinn breathes, closing her eyes and dropping her forehead to rest on the top of Rachel's head. She feels Rachel's thumb stroke over the back of her hand, and she moves her free hand over to their joined ones. Quinn frees one hand and smooths it over Rachel's back. Rachel makes a soft noise, and Quinn pulls with both hands, looping one around the brunette's waist until Rachel curls into her. Rachel's hand tightens around Quinn's, the other coming up from between them to wrap around Quinn's waist. She can feel Rachel's fingers curling and uncurling against her back, fingers skittering over the fabric of her shirt back and forth. It takes her a moment to realize that her fingers are doing the same.

"I'm sorry," she whispers into Rachel's hair. The brunette shifts closer and rests her forehead against Quinn's collarbone.

"It's okay."

Quinn presses a kiss to Rachel's head and flattens her palm on the small of Rachel's back. Rachel's palm flattens as well, pulling slightly.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs again.

Rachel sighs quietly, and Quinn feels the gust of air against her chest.

"It's okay."

For the first time in days, Quinn feels as if she can breathe.

-/-

In the hours that tick by, neither girl says a word. They've moved to lie long-ways on the hammock but remain curled together as if they hadn't moved and instead the hammock had just rotated beneath them. The sun has started to peek into the backyard, warming half of the grass but evading the girls who still lie undisturbed in the shade. It's Quinn who moves first, straightening her legs and sliding one underneath both of Rachel's. She tilts her head down, trying to catch Rachel's eye. The brunette hums quietly and sniffles, raising her head enough to rest her forehead against Quinn's jawline.

"Can I ask you something?" Quinn murmurs into Rachel's ear, dragging four fingers back and forth across Rachel's back. She feels Rachel's fingers start to do the same.

"Yeah."

"Why did you ask me, in the hospital, if I held Beth?"

Rachel shifts, but doesn't stiffen, and when she talks, her voice holds the same timber it's had since she calmed down.

"I never knew if my mom held me. I always wondered. Beth won't know either, I guess, but you'll know. I'll know."

Quinn nods. She was the first one to hold Beth. She'll always have that, at least.

"She hugged me once," Rachel surprises Quinn by continuing. "A few weeks before Regionals. We sang together, and then she hugged me, and it was like all the buzzing stopped, and it felt like what I think a mom should feel like."

"Rachel..."

"It's okay. I have that now. I know."

Rachel tilts her head back and Quinn meets her eyes. They're no longer as filled with sorrow as they were, and Quinn is grateful. She leans forward and rests her forehead on Rachel's. The brunette closes her eyes, and her fingers flex against Quinn's back.

"Are we okay, Rachel?"

"Yeah," Rachel says softly. She grips Quinn's back and scoots closer, sliding her nose along Quinn's.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

Quinn smiles and closes her eyes. "Yeah."

Rachel hums. "Good."

"I made you 'I'm Sorry' cookies this morning."

Rachel giggles but doesn't open her eyes. She tickles Quinn's back gently. "Stop it. Don't tease me."

Quinn's smile broadens as she nudges Rachel's nose with her own. "I did. They're in my bag right now. You can check."

"Comfortable," Rachel murmurs. "Eat later." She tilts her chin up, touching a soft kiss to Quinn's cheek. Her lips graze the corner of Quinn's mouth and she settles back, resting her nose against Quinn's.

"Okay."


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel squeezes her eyes closed against the bright sun hitting her eyelids. The light is pouring onto her face, making the insides of her eyelids look an orangey-brown color. She's warm. The sun pervades her whole body, making her more comfortable and warm than a blanket ever could. A slow warm breeze laps at her ears, blowing a few strands of hair into her face, and Rachel blinks, momentarily confused. The orangey-brown morphs into a light peachy-cream, and Rachel shifts forward, gasping when her nose and cheek brush something soft. She hears a noise, quiet like a whine, and the warmth around her waist tightens. She remembers.

"Quinn," Rachel murmurs, twisting her wrist to flatten her palm against Quinn's back.

She hears the sound again; it lasts longer this time, and Quinn's arm pulls her in closer. Rachel relaxes, sliding her hand up between Quinn's shoulder blades and smoothing out the tension.

"Nuh Rayshell," Rachel hears Quinn let out with her exhale, and she smiles fondly. She remembers back to the morning at Mercedes' house, how difficult Quinn had been to wake up, how the blonde had clutched her pillow, burying her head in it and refusing to meet the morning. When Rachel's smile grows and her cheek brushes Quinn's, she realizes how comfortable she is. Between Quinn and the sun, Rachel is cozy and warm. She wonders what time it is, how long they can stay outside in this snug bubble before they have to go in.

Quinn whimpers uncomfortably and shifts, pulling her hand clumsily from Rachel's. Rachel blinks in shock at how cold her hand gets. She'd forgotten Quinn was holding it. Rachel feels a pressure at her side when Quinn shoves her hand into her ribs, and Rachel squirms, whining in her discomfort. Quinn shushes her lazily, and Rachel lifts when she feels the blonde push her arm under her side. Quinn's arm wraps around Rachel's back, her hand moving to cup the back of Rachel's head. Rachel sighs comfortably as Quinn's other arm pulls at her waist, and she shifts closer, relaxing her fingers at Quinn's back. She's so warm, she can't help but grow drowsy again. Quinn tucks her head against Rachel's, her cheek rubbing against Rachel's own, and Rachel can't help but wonder if Quinn is so sleepy she thinks Rachel is a teddy bear.

"More minutes, Raysh," Quinn lets out again, the words tumbling through the air of Quinn's breath. Rachel closes her eyes and hums.

-/-

A soft bubbling against Rachel's stomach causes Rachel to open her eyes again. She blinks, confused, before she feels it again. She hears a low noise, a growl, and she smiles warmly, awake.

"Quinn," she murmurs, tipping her chin forward to kiss Quinn's cheek. Quinn whines, her arms tightening, and Rachel tickles the space between Quinn's shoulder blades.

"Mmph," Quinn mumbles, kicking her foot.

"Ow," Rachel giggles, tickling Quinn's back again. Quinn twitches and whines, and Rachel's eyes light up with delight.

"Quinn-"

"No."

"Quinn-"

"Sleep."

Rachel bites her lip, eyes alight with mischief. She feels the bubbling against her stomach again, but the growl is softer this time.

"Quinn, wake up. You're hungry."

"M'not."

Rachel pauses, dragging a finger up and down the center of Quinn's upper back. She wonders if the blonde is always this adorable when she wakes up. "Your stomach is growling."

Quinn swats lazily at Rachel's waist. "'S'cause it's mad a'you for wakin'it up."

"S'cause it's'ungry," Rachel says, mocking. Quinn kicks her foot again.

"_Rachel_," Quinn whines, drawing out the second syllable.

"Let's go eat. Quinnie, wake up."

Quinn gasps, detaching from Rachel in an instant and rolling over. The hammock dips and swings, and Rachel falls onto her back in the fray. She beams, giggling, and peers at Quinn's back.

"Quinnie-"

"Don't you dare. We're fighting. We're in a fight."

Rachel cackles, rolling off of the hammock and catching it with a shriek before it flips Quinn over. Quinn startles, throwing her arms out to steady herself and scooting back into the middle of the hammock, refusing to roll over. Rachel stands at the side of the hammock, doubled over, laughter pealing from her as she braces her hands on her knees. The sight of Quinn flailing on the hammock is forever imprinted upon her brain and likely to give her a hernia. She leans her head on the edge of the hammock as a new round of laughter cramps her stomach.

"Quinn," she gasps, fisting the rope in her hand.

"I hate you."

Rachel doubles over again, gasping for air as she laughs. "Quinn! Quinn. Let me make you something to eat," she struggles, but gains her composure and stands, rubbing the cramps out of her stomach.

"I'm hungry."

Rachel giggles. "I know."

Quinn whines, letting out a breath so harshly that the hammock shakes. "And now I'm cold," she complains, standing and shooting the hammock a glare when she trips. Rachel presses her lips together.

Quinn looks to Rachel and meets her eyes, and the girls both dissolve into giggles. The blonde makes her way around the hammock and stops in front of Rachel, looking down at the grass before pulling the brunette into a hug. Rachel wraps her arms around Quinn's waist and rests her head on the blonde's shoulder.

"We're not really in a fight," Quinn murmurs, tightening her grip around Rachel's back. "I was just kidding. Right?"

She sounds so unsure that Rachel squeezes her, pressing her forehead into Quinn's neck. "We're not in a fight, Quinn."

"We're okay."

"We're okay," Rachel agrees.

Quinn's head dips as she pulls Rachel closer, dropping a kiss to Rachel's cheek in front of her ear. Rachel pulls back enough to tilt her head up. She presses a kiss to Quinn's cheek in return, lingering for a moment before whispering in her ear. "We're good, I promise."

Quinn makes a soft noise and pulls Rachel in again. Her lips brush the space just underneath the curve in Rachel's jaw, and Rachel shivers, sending goose bumps down her arms and sides. Quinn's stomach growls again, and when Rachel feels the gurgling against her stomach, she can't help but giggle.

"Please, let's eat. I feel like it's yelling at me."

Quinn laughs and lets go, heading toward the house. "I'm starving."

Rachel bites her lip, hurrying to catch up with her. She slips her hand into Quinn's as they head for the back door. "I _know_."

-/-

Quinn lets go of Rachel's hand when they reach the entrance to the kitchen. The blonde heads into the foyer and fumbles through the bag she'd dropped when Rachel had run for the backyard. It feels like years ago. She takes the container of cookies and drops the bag back to the floor before heading into the kitchen after Rachel.

"Hey, Quinn, what are you hungry for?" Rachel calls out to her. Quinn places the tupperware on the counter next to Rachel and the brunette jumps. "Oops," she says with a smile. "I thought you were still out in the hall."

Quinn smiles. "I don't know. Waffles?"

Rachel raises an eyebrow. She twists to look over her shoulder at the stove clock. "It's 2:30, Quinn."

"And?"

Rachel shakes her head, rolling her eyes playfully. "Waffles are part of the breakfast category, but I suppose we can break the rule this time and have them now."

She squats down and opens a cabinet. Sticking her hands in and tugging, Rachel grunts, poking her tongue out of the side of her mouth.

"What rules are you talking about?" Quinn asks, ducking down to the floor and pushing the cabinet door open wider. She reaches in to help Rachel pull out a black metal... thing. The cabinet is dark inside, and the contraption Rachel is trying to lift weighs about as much as an anvil. Quinn helps Rachel heave the thing onto the counter and pants, feeling the burn in her legs. Then she laughs. "You _would_ have one of these."

"Waffles are best when you make them yourself, Quinn."

"They don't make light-weight waffle-makers?"

Rachel glares playfully at Quinn and shoves her lightly as she makes her way to the fridge. She begins pulling things out and placing them on the counter. Quinn looks through the ingredients when Rachel turns to the pantry and wrinkles her nose at the vegan egg substitute on the counter. She picks it up, unable to stop her lip from curling as Rachel returns with her arms full of flour, sugar, and baking soda.

"They taste just like eggs, Quinn."

"But they're not eggs."

"That is correct."

Quinn puts the container down gingerly and watches as Rachel scoops ingredients into a bowl. "So what's in it, exactly?"

She sees Rachel take a breath and turn, and Quinn thrusts her arm out to hold Rachel's elbow. "You know what? Don't tell me. I don't think I could handle it."

Rachel rolls her eyes playfully and swats at Quinn's hand with a measuring cup. It hits with a thwack, and Quinn rips her hand back.

"Ow!" Quinn laughs, shaking out her finger. She pouts her lip at Rachel and squeezes her finger with her other hand.

"Sorry," Rachel giggles, pulling at Quinn's elbow. Quinn shakes her shoulders back and forth and pushes her lip out further. Her brow furrows, and Rachel tugs harder. "Let me see it."

Quinn acquiesces, allowing Rachel to inspect her finger. The knuckle is a little red, but the sting has faded. Rachel rubs the pad of her index finger over the red spot and kisses it gently. Quinn sighs. Rachel smiles up at her, and Quinn takes her hand and squeezes it before resting both of her own on the edge of the counter.

"I wasn't aware that we'd regressed to 19th century punishment tactics," Quinn teases, flexing her finger until the ache is gone.

"I'm sorry that I hit your finger with a measuring cup, Quinn. Would you like me to continue making you brunch, or would you like to make fun of me some more?" Rachel questions Quinn with a playful glint in her eyes, and not for the first time, Quinn finds herself enjoying bantering with Rachel.

"By all means, make me some waffles," Quinn teases back as Rachel continues mixing the ingredients. "But it's lunch, not brunch."

"It's _waffles,_ Quinn. Of course it's brunch."

"Lunch, Rachel," Quinn twirls a lock of Rachel's hair around her fingers and Rachel huffs, turning from her mixing bowl to look at Quinn.

"Brunch."

Quinn chuckles, tugging lightly on Rachel's hair and shifting her weight against the counter. "It's 2:30. Brunch is at 11."

Rachel huffs, knowing Quinn is right. Quinn is looking at her with a smug smirk on her face, and Rachel will _not_ smile back. She won't. She runs a hand through her hair and pushes the stray hair out of her face. Quinn giggles, dropping her hand, and Rachel combines the wet ingredients with the dry ones.

"Are you bored, Quinn? Is that why you're-"

"Rachel."

"Yes, Quinn," Rachel says calmly as she stirs the ingredients together. The almond milk and the egg substitute soak up the flour, making it harder to push the spoon through.

"You have batter on your face."

Rachel gasps, hands flying toward her face. She stops just before she touches her cheeks and looks at her fingers. They're covered with flour and almond milk. Rachel whimpers.

"Where?"

Quinn bites her lip and in a dash, she's reaching up to swipe at Rachel's forehead. Rachel sputters and blinks as white powder floats down in front of her eyes. Quinn's face is aglow with mirth, and Rachel takes a slow, deep breath.

"Quinn Fabray."

Quinn is giggling, hiding her mouth behind one of her hands as her shoulders shake.

"Yes, Rachel Berry?"

"Did you put flour all over my forehead?"

"No."

"Quinn."

"But you've got some," Quinn says again, stepping closer. "Right here."

She swipes at Rachel's cheek, and Rachel squeals, dipping her sticky fingers into the flour and dragging her hand across Quinn's face. Quinn shrieks, grabbing Rachel's wrist as she falls back against the refrigerator. She leans her head back and laughs, sliding down a few inches. Rachel trips over Quinn's feet and straightens, unable to bite back the smile threatening to take over her face. Quinn is clutching her stomach with her clean hand, and Rachel shakes her head when she looks at her wrist. It's covered in flour. She beams at Quinn, her cheeks aching as she watches the blonde laugh.

"Oh my god," Quinn sighs, still chuckling. She shrugs her shoulders up to wipe her eyes and smiles at Rachel. "Help."

Rachel twists her wrist around to grasp Quinn's and tugs the blonde to her feet. Quinn giggles, reaching her clean hand up to rub Rachel's forehead.

"Hey, Rach, you've got some stuff on your face."

Even now, Rachel can't help but grin at the nickname. "I wonder how it got there."

"It's the strangest thing."

"I bet," Rachel says.

She rises to her toes and lurches forward to rub her face against Quinn's cheek. Quinn shrieks again, laughing even as she shoots an arm around Rachel to grab her balance. She cradles the back of Rachel's head, slowing the girl's movement as she catches her breath.

"My stomach," Quinn says, laughing. "I can't breathe." She winds her arms around Rachel as her laughter slows to a stop. The blonde leans her head against Rachel's and breathes quietly.

Rachel giggles, relaxing once she knows their mini food fight is over. Never in her life did she think she'd actually enjoy having culinary items tossed at her. She pulls her head away from Quinn's shoulder, and after a moment, kisses it before pulling away.

"Waffles?"

Quinn smiles. "Yes, please."

-/-

"Okay," Quinn says as they take their dishes to the sink. The blonde lifts her hand to her mouth and licks the syrup off of her fingers. "I admit it. Those were the best waffles I've ever had. I take back what I said about your waffle maker."

"And the vegan eggs."

"And the... vegan eggs," Quinn mutters darkly, placing her plate on top of Rachel's in the sink. Rachel makes a satisfied noise and grins smugly. Quinn rolls her eyes and nudges Rachel's shoulder.

"Here," Quinn says, her voice going soft. Rachel looks up curiously as Quinn reaches for a tupperware container in the corner of the counter by the fridge. The blonde pops the lid off and holds the container out to Rachel with a demure smile on her face. Rachel crosses over to her and smiles upon seeing the contents of the container. She feels warmth spread through her when she sees the cookies. Quinn had arranged them to spell "I'M SORRY" on the top layer, but the whole batch is in there, piled inside. Rachel knows that she only forgave Quinn a couple hours ago, but it seems like so much longer. The cookies seem unnecessary now, at least for their intended purpose, but she smiles a genuine smile at the blonde and grabs one of the R cookies. She gasps. Now that it's out of the box, she sees it.

"They're stars," Quinn says softly. Her face houses the gentlest smile Rachel has ever seen on her, and the brunette is filled with a rush of gratitude and awe. "I know you like stars, and they're vegan, I promise," Quinn continues. "It took a while to find a recipe with ingredients we had in the house because I couldn't use eggs, but I found one."

Rachel tries to thank Quinn, but the words die in her throat. She shakes her head, bewildered, and takes a bite to buy herself some time. Even after the past month, part of Rachel still can't believe that this is Quinn, that underneath the cold-hearted bitch she'd known for years lay this beautiful, sweet, gentle girl. Quinn had been like this in elementary school, poised and polite and delicate, and while she and Rachel had never been friends, they were always cordial to one another. That had changed in middle school, when Quinn grew a diva attitude larger than Rachel's that stayed until some indecipherable moment during Quinn's pregnancy. Rachel knows that Quinn's father is awful, and she can't help but wonder if she and Quinn would have been friends ages ago if he hadn't been in the picture. She'd like to think so.

"It's delicious, Quinn," Rachel says quietly, swallowing the last of the cookie. Quinn places the rest back on the counter and straightens her shoulders proudly. Rachel walks forward and wraps her arms around Quinn's shoulders. "Thank you," she murmurs, tucking her head under Quinn's chin. "You didn't have to do that, or make them stars, or vegan. No one's ever-" Rachel stops and shakes her head, burrowing closer as Quinn's arms curl around her. "Just- _thank you_."

Quinn nods against Rachel's head, almost laughing when she feels tears prick her eyes. She thought she was done crying today. The relief she feels is indescribable to her, like finally being able to breathe after being underwater or lying down after triple Cheerios practice, except neither of those compare, and she doesn't know why.

"I'm so happy that we're okay," she says quietly, knowing she's said it a million times, but she has to, just once more. She brings a hand up to Rachel's head and strokes her hair, closing her eyes when Rachel relaxes further against her. "I didn't know what to do these past two days. It was the worst," Quinn admits, sniffling. She feels Rachel nod against her collarbone, and the brunette places a kiss there. Quinn shivers and squeezes her tighter.

"Me neither," Rachel says. She picks her head up and holds her cheek against Quinn's. Quinn's head dips down to place their foreheads together, and Rachel scratches her fingers against Quinn's shoulders as the blonde's arms tighten around her waist. "I'm sorry for ignoring you," she murmurs.

Quinn shakes her head, brushing her nose against Rachel's. "Don't. It's okay."

Rachel manages a teary chuckle, and sighs, taking in the comfort of feeling Quinn against her. "I'm sorry. I just-"

"I know," Quinn finishes, kissing Rachel's cheek. "We should stop apologizing to each other."

"We should. Okay," Rachel pulls back a fraction and kisses Quinn's cheek in return.

Rachel chuckles at how silly they're being, how girly and emotional, and she shakes her head. Her nose brushes Quinn's cheek. Quinn turns her head, and their lips touch. Both girls freeze. Rachel stares at Quinn's nose, so close it makes her eyes hurt and she closes them, afraid to move. Quinn pulls back first, but only a hair, and Rachel feels Quinn's hands shift against her back. Rachel lets out a breath through her nose, and Quinn whimpers. She's trembling, rigid.

"Rach?" her voice is small.

"I don't know," Rachel whispers.

They're so close her lips brush Quinn's again, and she shivers. Rachel uncurls her fingers and smooths them over Quinn's shoulders, thinking it funny that she doesn't know when her fists had curled in the first place. She knows she should step back, but her body won't move, not if Quinn isn't moving. She wishes she could read Quinn's mind, but she can't. She can't even read her own. Quinn lets out a breath that gusts over Rachel's lips. There's movement at Rachel's back, and Quinn's hands are flattening, holding Rachel steady but not pulling her closer, not pushing away. Rachel blinks her eyes open, but Quinn's are closed. Quinn makes a soft noise, brow furrowing for a moment before she leans forward and kisses Rachel again.

Rachel's eyes flutter closed, caught for a moment before it sinks in. She moves her lips against Quinn's, like kissing silk, or chocolate, or _Quinn_, and it fits and she doesn't know why. She unfreezes, tightening her arms around Quinn to thread one hand through blonde hair. Quinn whimpers, her hands fisting around the fabric of Rachel's shirt, and she tugs the brunette closer even as she pulls her lips away. Rachel settles against her, her mind swimming, just barely staying afloat as she catches her breath. Her forehead, nose, cheek, and the corner of her lips rest against Quinn's, the rest of their bodies pressed so close she can't feel air between them. She struggles with her thoughts, creasing her forehead and feeling the skin against Quinn's. She passes Quinn's hair through her fingers.

"Quinn?" she whispers, voice quivering with the worry that the sound will send Quinn running.

"I don't know," the blonde answers, shaking her head. One of her hands slips up Rachel's back to scratch her shoulder blades through her shirt. "I don't know," she says again. "Just, come _here_."

Rachel raises onto her toes before she even knows she moved and presses her lips to Quinn's. Quinn's neck straightens, and she sighs into Rachel's mouth, tightening her hold. Rachel slides the hand in Quinn's hair up to cup the back of Quinn's head, to press her closer, because after this, after sleeping on the hammock, she's still not close enough. She curls her fingers, feels them weave through Quinn's hair and skid across the back of Quinn's neck, and Quinn shivers, smiling against Rachel's lips. Rachel feels Quinn's lips curl against her own, and she's smiling too. She kisses Quinn again and giggles, kissing her once more before leaning back and pushing their foreheads together.

"We just-" Quinn starts.

"I know."

"How-"

"I don't know," Rachel pushes her nose against Quinn's, and Quinn sighs, stroking her thumb over Rachel's back.

"Okay," Quinn whispers quietly. "I- I think we're okay."

"Yeah," Rachel says, smiling as she nuzzles Quinn's cheek. "We're okay."


	8. Chapter 8

Like so much of Quinn's life lately, the passage of time seems to slow down to nothing. Waking up in her painted room for the first time seems like weeks ago, not this morning. So much has happened in these past few days. The only good thing that had come out of the past two days was Quinn's mom. It had been Judy's idea to go see _Cats_. Quinn had been despondent for days; Judy knew she wasn't eating. She hardly left her room, and when she did, her eyes were always red and swollen.

Judy had come in one morning and sat down on her daughter's bed. Quinn was still sleeping, curled around her pillow and facing the window. It had been years since she and Quinn had spent any quality time together, and Judy missed it. Despite living under the same roof, her little girl had grown up without her, and something inside Judy ached to fix whatever was tormenting Quinn. She reached out, bringing her hand up to stroke Quinn's hair, and she felt a tug of affection when Quinn whined, curling further away from her and into her pillow.

"Quinnie," Judy had whispered, bracing herself to lean over Quinn's shoulder to kiss the girl's cheek. "Wake up."

Ever since she was a little girl, Quinn had been impossible to rouse in the morning. Judy brushed the back of her finger over Quinn's cheek like she used to when Quinn refused to wake up, smiling when Quinn's face scrunched up like it always used to. She did it again, tickling Quinn's cheek with the pad of her finger. Quinn whimpered, her shoulder twitching to try to dislodge Judy's finger, but Judy just smiled warmly down at the sleeping girl and stroked her cheek again.

Quinn had whined, rolling over and burying her head in her mom's hip.

"Morning, baby," Judy said softly, stroking Quinn's hair. "Wake up," she teased when Quinn squeezed her eyes closed. "We're having a girls day today, like we used to, remember?"

Quinn responded by wrapping her arm around Judy's waist.

"The painters are coming to paint your room today, so I thought we'd go out to lunch. I made appointments for us to have our nails done, and then we'll go to that restaurant you like for dinner, and I got us tickets to see a show tonight. Just you and me."

It was like her mom was a whole new woman. She was fun and carefree, trying on dorky heart-shaped sunglasses just to make Quinn laugh. To Quinn, it had felt like the best day in a long time.

Quinn sighs, remembering that day and how wonderful it had been, despite the circumstances. She'd needed her mom, and she remembered how terrible it felt the last time she'd needed her, when Judy had been too scared but do anything other than ignore her. This time, Judy took the initiative, and she didn't stop until Quinn was happy.

Quinn looks over at Rachel. The brunette is lying next to her on the basement floor, eyes closed and peaceful. It reminds Quinn of the beginning of the summer, when she and Rachel started to do yoga. When they were finished, they would lie down on their backs and just rest, mostly for Rachel's benefit, like they're doing now.

Rachel breathes evenly, ankles and back relaxed. It's nice, Quinn thinks, to see her like this. Rachel's hand moves, slowly lifting off of the floor, and fishes a cookie out of the container. Quinn rolls onto her side and watches as Rachel brings the cookie to her mouth. A couple crumbs fall down her cheek and into her hair, and she doesn't try to shake them out.

"You'll make yourself sick if you keep eating those," Quinn says softly, reaching over to pluck the crumbs out of Rachel's hair before cupping Rachel's cheek. Rachel allows her head to roll to the side, following Quinn's hand. She never opens her eyes, just pops the rest of the cookie into her mouth and hums happily at the taste.

"They're too good," Rachel says quietly. "You could have some, too, you know."

"I made them," Quinn says, taking her hand away from Rachel's face to tuck it under her own head.

"So enjoy them," Rachel says, opening her eyes lazily to look at Quinn.

Quinn shakes her head, smiling at Rachel. "I've already had two."

Rachel's brow furrows as she looks at the container. "Only two?"

"Mhmm," Quinn answers her.

"The box is more than half gone. Did I eat all of those?" Rachel's voice rises nervously.

"I had two."

"Crap," Rachel whines, rolling onto her side and clutching her stomach. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"I made you cookies," Quinn replies. "You're supposed to eat them."

"You were supposed to share them with me," Rachel pouts.

"Another time," Quinn giggles, "when I don't have anymore baby weight to lose. I promise."

Rachel opens her mouth, but stops, remembering what had happened the last time Quinn referenced her baby weight, when Rachel had shaken her head and told Quinn she was beautiful, and Quinn had run away without a word to Rachel for the rest of the night. Rachel had meant it, because Quinn _was_ beautiful. She still is, and Rachel makes a note to tell Quinn at a better time. Now though, she looks at Quinn's face, blonde hair framing her gentle features, and Rachel wonders how Quinn could think anything else about herself.

Rachel lifts herself up to an elbow and holds herself over the small gap between them to look down at the blonde. Quinn looks up at her, and Rachel lifts her free hand to cup the blonde's cheek. She bends down, brushing her lips over Quinn's before pressing down firmly. Quinn is soft and pliant beneath her, and when she gently sucks on Quinn's bottom lip, the blonde makes a soft, satisfied noise and rolls onto her back. She's so, so beautiful, and it's all Rachel can do not to press herself down and hug Quinn until there's no space between them.

Quinn sighs into Rachel's mouth as she feels the brunette climb timidly on top of her. She feels Rachel trembling, the brunette's thumb stroking her cheek softly. She cups the back of Rachel's head, threading dark, silky hair through her fingers as she reclaims her lip and kisses Rachel back. She places her other hand on Rachel's side, holding her in place. She wants to be closer, has wanted to be closer to Rachel since the brunette opened the door this morning, and she tilts her head, scratching Rachel's scalp soothingly. Rachel arches her neck into Quinn's hand, sighing appreciatively. The brunette pulls back for a moment, forcing her eyes open to smile shyly at Quinn before brushing her lips across the blonde's once more. Warmth spreads through Quinn when she feels Rachel's tongue poking delicately at her lip. Quinn shudders, trying to get rid of the tingling feeling in her stomach, and she parts her lips hesitantly. The hand on Quinn's cheek slides into her hair as Rachel tentatively dips her tongue into Quinn's mouth. Quinn meets Rachel's tongue with her own and whimpers, quivering when her body erupts in a warm flush. When she grabs onto Rachel's shirt and pulls her closer, Rachel lets out a soft noise and draws her mouth from Quinn's, breathing tremulously for a moment before giggling into Quinn's cheek. She draws back, gaze full of warmth as she looks at Quinn before slowly pressing kiss after kiss down Quinn's cheek. Rachel sucks Quinn's earlobe into her mouth, pulling on the sensitive skin, and Quinn gasps, arching into her. She trembles, turning her head to meet Rachel's lips, and Rachel squeezes against her.

"Rachel," Quinn breathes, holding the brunette's forehead against hers.

"Quinn," Rachel murmurs.

Quinn takes a moment, sliding her foot up to raise her knee. She leans her bent leg against Rachel's hip, and the brunette drops in closer. Quinn squeezes her eyes closed, marveling at the effect Rachel has on her. She didn't feel this _need_ to be close with Puck, this magnetism that she feels with Rachel, and she certainly didn't feel it with Finn. The realization causes Quinn to blink her eyes open, and she stiffens slightly, even as she tips her chin up to take Rachel's lip into her mouth. The brunette whimpers.

"Rach," Quinn mumbles against Rachel's lips, pressing one more kiss against her before dropping back.

"Yeah," Rachel slurs ducking her head to rub her nose along Quinn's.

"What-" Quinn pauses, scared, terrified, and shakes her head, kissing Rachel again.

"What's the matter?" Rachel asks, concerned, as she looks down into Quinn's eyes. She strokes her thumb back and forth over the shell of Quinn's ear, and Quinn shivers, from the touch or the eye contact, she doesn't know.

"What are we doing?" Quinn whispers, barely audible, and when Rachel falters, Quinn feels the breath leave her chest.

Rachel breathes quietly, looking down at Quinn. "I- I don't know."

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut as the pleasant, warm weight of Rachel's body becomes suddenly stifling. She's ruined everything so far: her parents' marriage, her child, her reputation, Finn, Puck, they'd all left her because of it. Whatever she'd done, it seems she's never been able to figure it out, it keeps happening no matter what she does, and she'd done it again. She turns her head away when she feels Rachel easing off of her, moving back to sit on Quinn's knees.

"Oh my god," Quinn breathes, sitting up. "I have to go. I have to- I can't do this," Quinn scrambles off of the floor, and Rachel slips to the floor with a thump.

"What? Quinn!"

Rachel is on her feet in an instant, and she snags Quinn around the waist just as the blonde places a foot on the first step.

"Rachel-"

"Quinn, no! Stay." Rachel's plea comes out with a pang. She rests her head between Quinn's shoulder blades, holding her tightly, unwilling to let go.

Quinn turns around, stepping back to the ground before looking up at Rachel. "Why?"

Rachel gasps, lifting a hand to cup Quinn's cheek. She steps closer, looking at Quinn's shoulder.

"That's not what I meant. It's not. It's true, though. I _don't_ know what we're doing," Rachel whispers, stroking her thumb tenderly over Quinn's cheek as she raises her eyes to Quinn's, "but whatever it is, I want to keep doing it." She tips her head up, brushing Quinn's lips with her own.

Quinn bites her lip, shaking her head even as she steps closer, leaning her forehead against Rachel's. "But... Finn."

Rachel nods, pulling away and covering her eyes. "I know."

Quinn exhales shakily. "I've hurt him too much. I swore I'd stop."

"It wasn't working with Finn," Rachel says quietly, bringing her hand down from her face and looking up at Quinn slowly. "I tried, but I don't feel the attraction to him that I once did. He's excellent leading man potential," she says, and Quinn chuckles, nodding, "but it wasn't right long before this happened," Rachel finishes, motioning between her and Quinn.

"What are you going to do?" Quinn asks, resting a hand on Rachel's waist and trying to keep the bubbling emotion out of her voice. It doesn't feel like she has much to worry about, with the way Rachel's looking at her, with all that's happened today. It's funny, how a month ago she and Rachel never even talked, and now Quinn can't imagine what her life would be like without Rachel in it.

"I'll tell him just that," Rachel says, stepping toward Quinn and taking her free hand. "I was going to anyway. I just... hadn't yet. We can tell him about this later," she squeezes Quinn's hand and Quinn drops her chin, smiling shyly.

"When we know what we're doing," Quinn says quietly, rubbing her thumb over the back of Rachel's hand.

"Yeah," Rachel murmurs, smiling up at Quinn. "When we know what we're doing."

-/-

"You're... what?" Finn scratches the back of his head and drops down to sit at the edge of his bed. The mattress bounces under him, and he rests his head in his hand.

"I thought this was what I wanted," Rachel says earnestly, pulling Finn's chair over to sit in front of him. "I really, really did, but it's not, Finn. I'm so sorry."

Finn sighs, his shoulders slumping forward dejectedly. "You're sure?"

Rachel nods silently, face full of empathy. Finn looks back up at her and traces a finger across her cheekbone before cupping her face. She watches him sadly, but she doesn't push her face into his hand or cover it with her own like she used to, and he drops it back to his lap.

"Okay."

Rachel looks at him, eyes searching his face before she stands. He follows her, towering over her and opens his arm hesitantly. Rachel hugs his waist, and he squeezes her lightly before letting her go.

He calls her back when she gets to the door, and she turns around slowly.

"Puck is having another Glee party at his house this weekend," Finn shrugs. "He wanted me to tell people."

Rachel nods slowly and offers him a smile. "Thank you, Finn. I'll see you this weekend."

Finn nods. "See you."

-/-

Rachel is standing on the front step, head ducked low and hands clasped when Quinn opens the door. Quinn steps aside and Rachel enters the house, timid and smiling.

"Hi."

"Hi," Quinn says, twisting her hands as well. "So?"

"There's a party at Puck's house this weekend, if you'd like to go," Rachel meets Quinn's eyes and nods reassuringly, and Quinn feels the pitted tension from Rachel's house leave her chest.

"He's okay?"

Rachel nods. She steps over to Quinn and reaches a hand up to her cheek, brushing the hair away from her face. She freezes, looking over Quinn's shoulder until Quinn giggles, snaring her arms around Rachel's waist and tugging her closer.

"My mom is at the grocery store."

Rachel relaxes, looking up and meeting Quinn's eyes. She feels a familiar calm surround her, and rises to her toes to press her nose to Quinn's. Quinn hums happily, and Rachel wraps her arms around the blonde's neck. The house smells like Quinn, and she brushes her lips over the blonde's, trying to capture the scent. Quinn hums again after a moment and guides Rachel back down. She takes the brunette's hand and walks toward the stairs.

"My room is painted."

Rachel's face immediately brightens and she skips to catch up with Quinn. "Do you like the color?"

Quinn nods. "It's perfect."

Rachel bites her lip as they climb the stairs, tucking her hair behind her ear with her free hand. "Are you ready for a new beginning?" she asks, looking over at Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn takes a breath, and Rachel sees the door as they get to the top of the stairs.

"Yeah."


End file.
